


Hoarding

by Suliana



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detox, Drugs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jerry is a shit, Kidnapping, Pre-Relationship, There will be some fluff, back story, gift-fic, is that even a thing? it is now, mental trauma, off-screen assault, pre-polyamorous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suliana/pseuds/Suliana
Summary: Twist was a collector, after all, and what collector worth his salt stopped with one?Based on Lady Kit's "Unconventional"Also I suck at titles.





	1. Rumors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Kit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/gifts).



> @Lady_Kit, you pretty much single-handedly got me hooked on Undertale AUs... not sure whether to thank you or not for this. Broken Bones was my first AU fic for the fandom, and I've pretty much been in love since. I've really, really been enjoying your Shipmas fics, and Unconventional enjoyable as heck. Twist has so much potential as a character, and I really look forward to what you do with him. That, and I have a mild obsession with Edge and Swap Paps now. I really, really hope you like this.
> 
> One of my New Year's resolutions is to actually post more of the stuff I write and to transcribe some of my dozens of notebooks I have laying about, and this is as good a place as any to start.

There was a few important things that Edge learned quickly about his… benefactor? Savior? Well, whatever Twist was, there was a few key details that he had learned quickly.

He was a rumor-monger and as busybody, worse than any little old lady.  He also wasn't quite sane, at least not in how Edge defined the term.  But the other's fixation with  _rumors_ was definitely a defining character trait.

Not just any sort of rumor, mind you. Oh no, Twist had a quite specific set of rumors that he hoarded to his chest.

Rumors about skeleton monsters.

Edge had followed Twist from one side of the region to the other, chasing down these rumors, these _ghosts_. Any time the other caught a whiff of the existence of another skeleton, his single eyelight would spark and golden magic would tinge the air around him in his ill-concealed excitement. If it was anyone other than Twist, the ill-concealed, childlike excitement would be almost… endearing.

He snorted. Twist, _endearing_? The taller skeleton's strange sense of humor was starting to rub off on him.  At least, he hoped it was the humor and not the questionable sanity.

 

* * *

 

The newest, wispiest rumor they had come across was a strange one, if Twisted was going to be honest with himself. Which he was. Occasionally. Well, sometimes.  Maybe. 

He had heard whispers of a skeleton squirreled away some towns over, though no one could say one way or another where, or doing what. Given that the information had come from a dog monster, deep in his cups at a dingy bar in a dingier town at a time so late it was most definitely more early? It was the worst kind of hearsay.

Just the sort of thing that got his magic flowing.

He knew that Edge wasn't exactly pleased about traipsing all over the place after him. For what it was worth, he had told the other he didn't have to. If push came to shove, he'd just follow the vampire around instead. He couldn't just let his ~~hoard~~ friend go unattended, after all. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that, and the other stayed with him, probably out of some weird perception of duty-bound honor.

It didn't matter, not really.

What did matter was ~~expanding his collection~~ ~~finding a friend for his hoard~~ verifying that there were other skeletons out there. Yeah. He'd go with that. Final answer.

They had followed the rumor as far as they could, renting a cheap room in the city to base out of. Splitting up, they spent a few days around the markets, listening for anything about _anything_.

 Nothing.

 Absolutely nothing.

 That in and of itself was telling.

 Twist didn't know much of Edge's time before he had become a vampire, but the other had a sixth-sense of street-smarts that didn't just develop overnight. He himself had been around a _long_ time, and the entire _lack_ rubbed him wrong.  People  _talked_ , and that they weren't?  Strongly implied something was up.  

 So did the stares they'd get when they went to the local bars at night, trawling for information.

 The looks were generally from the less-than-savory-appearing types, and Edge wasn't sure he liked what they implied. Skeletons were _rare_ , yet the looks came from those who had clearly seen one before and weren't surprised by their appearance. These looks… they weren't normal looks. The leers… they were being sized up, inspected like they were meat on the market.

 No, Edge didn't like what that implied at all.

 And judging from Twist's reactionary flares of magic, he didn't either.

 

* * *

  

It took a few days of making themselves visible before they got their first solid lead.

It was nearing midnight, and the pair had found themselves seated at the end of a bar in a less-than-savory part of town. Edge snorted mentally. That was certainly saying something.  The bar itself was sticky from untold drinks spilled.  It sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine, his mind shying away of the thoughts of exactly _when_ the last time the bar had been wiped clean was.  They nursed their drinks slowly, both exuding waves of frustration, irritation and other less-than-friendly emotions, nearly palpably. It had been a slow day in terms of new information, and Twist had near dragged him to the bar.  Edge was relatively sure that the other's enthusiasm was starting to wane, but Twist's emotions were mercurial at best.

The rabbit monster, the largest specimen of that type that Edge had ever seen, was a huge hulking brute of a thing. And really, he should have known that approaching the two skeletons, each exuding a less than friendly air, was probably not the best of ideas he could have. Judging from the obvious bulge the other was sporting, however, Edge suspected he didn't have enough blood flow to operate two heads at once.

Sweet Angel, Twist's humor really was rubbing off on him.

Twist raised a bonebrow at him, smirking as if he heard Edge's internal screeching, then visibly focused himself, pasting a mellow smile across his skull.

He shifted, turning his innocently questioning look to the rabbit. “Can I help you?” he asked in what had to be the most benign speech Edge had ever heard from him.

He blanched. This was probably going to end up _messy_.

The rabbit was apparently not endowed with enough brain cells to realize a trap when it had flashing fluorescent lights proclaiming “danger!” staked out around it. His whiskers twitched, and his leer increased. “You're awfully purdy,” he drawled in a manner so low-class it had Edge digging his phalanges into the wood surface of the bar. Hopefully the bar keep wouldn't notice.

His ears perked forward and he settled a paw on Twist's shoulder, not noticing the sudden tensing beneath it. Oh yes, this was going to end _marvelously_. “You look just like 'he skeleton Jerry's got at 'is place.”

Oh god, was that drool? A globule had formed at the corner of the rabbit's muzzle and dripped down, landing with an unpleasant _splat_ on Twisted's jacket. It slithered downward, leaving a trail behind it, ignored for the moment.

Edge rested his folded arms on the bar and buried his skull as far into them as he could get without becoming one with the bar itself.  He just hoped his bone wouldn't stick.

“Another skeleton, you say?” Twist purred, putting his own hand over the paw occupying his shoulder. Golden magic had already flared in his socket and was leaking upwards, curling delicately around his skull. “Tell me about him?” He injected just _push_ into his voice to get the rabbit to cooperate, not that it took much given his state of intoxication. Or stupidity. It was hard to tell which sometimes.

The rabbit almost purred at the touch. “'e's _really_ purdy. You'd look pretty wit' 'im. _Really_ sens'tive, and Jerry keeps 'im nice and tame an-”

His eyes bulged as Twist's grip on his paw increased and the wet sound of delicate bones popping echoed through the otherwise quiet bar.

Edge peered over the top of his arm. The bartender had vanished into the backroom rather quickly with as air of “didn't see it, didn't happen” clear as day behind him. The few other patrons saw orange and red flares of magic and palpably felt the atmosphere get heavier and collectively decided that their drinks were suddenly far more entertaining.

Twisted hadn't released his grip on the now-limp paw, instead increasing it. Bones grated under his own and he had to suppress the urge to growl. Already he _knew_ this skeleton would be ~~an excellent addition to his hoard~~ interesting to meet, and the thought that this _bastard_ Jerry and this _filthy_ rabbit would sully ~~what was his~~ another monster?

Oh no.

Not happening.

Instead he smiled. “Why don't you tell me about Jerry, friend?” This time, he put the full force of his magic behind the suggestion.

Edge reburied his face as the rabbit began spilling every transgression he'd ever made. It was going to be a long night.

 


	2. A Light in the Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge really hates when he's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be angst and whump!Stretch.
> 
> Also holy shit two chapters in one day.

He had been floating for a long time.  Everything was hazy, foggy.  If it wasn’t so… _nothing_ it wouldn’t have been so bad.

It was better than the times it was _something_.

Thoughts were hard to put together, though he sometimes managed it through the cottony-sensation.  Sometimes he remembered, or thought he remembered, who he was, or what he was.

Without fail, it would go away with a sharp prick to his SOUL.

That still felt.

He wished it didn’t.

It _hurt_.

It was worse when the haze went away, when _they_ let it wear off just enough.  He could _feel_ and he _hated_ it.  Flashes of color, of _pain_ , of hands on his heated bones, the pressure of a collar around… was that his throat? the scent of sweat and bodies and _justmakeitstop_ made him want to go back to the misty-world that was his life.  He sometimes thought he whimpered, or cried, but he wasn’t sure he was imagining the feeling of hot tears trickling down the side of his skull.  

The before-times, the time before the pricks and the hands and the muffled voices, was all but gone.  Only in the fleeting moments when the last dose of whatever it was that was being pumped into his SOUL was fading, just before the next prick came to send searing pain through him, could he remember.  Or he thought he remembered?  It was so _hard_ to focus.

He thought he remembered blue.  Not a dark blue, but the blue of an ocean, vibrant with life.  He thought he remembered gentle hands.

He felt a presence above him, and he whined, or thought he whined, in the back of his throat.  Pressure on his clavicle, but it was so far away…

Searing as the needle slipped into his SOUL.  He thrashed, would have trashed?  Bolts of what felt like lava surged out from his SOUL, but once they left that, the pain dissipated down to pins and needles, feeling like daggers digging into his bones.

This time, he was almost sure that the prickling on the sides of his skull were, in fact, his tears.  

There was a loud sound, like a wounded animal crying out, but he hadn’t quite placed its origin (him) before the haze swirled and swallowed him completely.

 

* * *

 

 

There wasn’t so much left of “Jerry” left when Twist was done.  Oh yes, he was still Jerry in form and shape, a disgustingly obese one at that, but still a shape, but mentally?  

Edge had seen Twist use his magic before to get what he wanted, but this was… perhaps a wee excessive.  Perhaps.  

Jerry would be a spoon fed vegetable for the rest of his natural life.  Given that his legs were currently dust?  That likely wouldn't be long enough to prove a burden on anyone.

Gold magic was still crackling angrily around his phalanges as the taller skeleton shoved his way into each successive room, searching.  

“You do realize that perhaps keeping him cognizant until we find him would have been more useful?” he groused at the other’s back, picking a fleck of dirt off one of his phalanges.  He didn’t really _mean_ that, of course, but he was the saner one and needed to act it. 

What Jerry had admitted to, after a thorough application of Twist’s magic and Edge’s slightly more… physical… means of encouragement, had been _grim._ Even by their, admittedly, abnormal standards.

Twist slammed through yet another door, growling low in his throat.  How fucking _dare_ that squat little _prick_ take ~~something~~ someone that was rightfully ~~HIS~~  their own self.  He was a stars-damned  _dragon_ and what that miserable sack of  _excrement_ had admitted to... 

Another door frame shattered as he barged through it.

And his higher functions decided, at that moment, to take a vacation.  

He had  _found_ the ~~newest addition to his hoard~~ mystery skeleton.

But he was  _more_.  

His instincts did a happy flip as Edge flipped the light switch on the wall behind him.  Horns, delicately curved, framed the crown of skeleton's skull.  So not  _just_ a skeleton then... 

It was only Edge's phalanges digging into his clavicle that kept him in the present and not ripping Jerry into physical shreds to match what was left of his mind.  

The  _shit_ had admitted to coming into possession of the skeleton, who's name he didn't know, never bothered to learn, years earlier.  The amount of time the skeleton had spent undrugged in that time could be measured in hours.  Between the psychotropics and the heavy, magic-suppressing collar pushing into his cervical vertebrae, the other was a right  _mess._ That, and there was obvious evidence of... 

Edge's sharp elbow into his rib cage suddenly made Twist aware that his magic was flaring violently.  His entire body seemed to be wreathed in it.  Huh.  It had been a  _long_ time since that had happened.  He giggled mentally; he had always liked the color gold his magic turned when he was well and truly  _pissed_.  It was so  _pretty_ and  _alive_ and very fucking  _sunny_.

The other let out a long-suffering sigh and pushed past the taller, sitting lightly at the end of the soiled mattress with a look of indignant disgust.  A flare of his own red magic had the collar off to the side and the other restraints dealt with.  Just touching them made his bones crawl.  There were some pretty strong magic inhibitors in the hardware, and they made his magic shy away in repulsion.  That explained, at least, how a toad like  _Jerry_ had managed to keep a magical being under control.  

He decided to not look any closer in the dim light of the room, instead glaring over his shoulder at Twist, who was still... who the hell even knew?  The other skeleton had a half-witted smile painted across his mandible, watching tendrils of gold weave delicately through his long phalanges.  The light from the magic cast a creepy glow across his skull, highlighting the divots and nicks across his exposed bone.  

It took three attempts to get his attention, Edge finally resorting to throwing a filthy glass at the wall behind his head.  The bright side, if there was one, was that the skeleton on the mattress was well and truly unconscious and thankfully oblivious to the world.  

"Find me something cleaner than this to wrap him in," Edge ordered, turning his attention back into getting the other into a semi-seated position.

For a moment, Twist froze, eyelight blown.  Had his  _ ~~possession~~  _friend really just  _ordered_ him, his  _ ~~owner~~_ ~~keepe~~ r friend, to do something?  The blinding rage only lasted a single SOULbeat, too fast for Edge to even notice, the pleasure of adding to his ~~collection~~ group of  _friends_   surpassing the rage.  Besides, Edge had the right of it.  ~~His newest addition~~ The skeleton needed to be seen to in a safe place, which was most assuredly not on a dirty pallet in a dirtier brothel in this shit little hole of a town.  Besides, if he kept his ~~collection~~ ~~hoard~~ HIS happy, they'd be less willing to try to leave him. 

His mind shied violently away from that as he wordlessly retrieved a blanket that had been stashed atop the chair that was the only other furniture in the room.  

It took little work to get the unresisting form swaddled into the ratty fabric, and only a few moments beyond that to get him into the dark, cold streets.

Edge adjusted his grip on the lanky skeleton slumped gracelessly against him as Twist delicately and properly closed the door to the ~~now former~~ brothel behind them.

He hated when he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gawd MORE THAN 2 CHAPTERS? Hide.


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge is long-suffering. Twist... is Twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is substantially shorter than I wanted, but I really, really wanted to get something up today. There also seems to be a larger percentage of italics here than normal...
> 
> Also I feel like crap because holy crap my job owns me, but I meant to say this earlier - THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the comments because holy wow I didn't expect any of them. 
> 
> edited 3 Jan

It had originally taken Edge and Twist four days of easy travel, chasing rumors across the landscape, to reach the town they now high-tailed out of.

Twist had solidly refused to stay there with his ~~prize~~ new friend, not after they gave him a secondary, only slightly more in-depth check at their inn room.  It had only been a few seconds longer than the first because Twist nearly had a meltdown at the damage ~~to his treasure~~.  Instead, with a liberal application of magic and a (Edge refused to admit) majestic transformation, in a bare two hours they were home.

Edge  _absolutely refused_ to be impressed as he slid down the broad wing.  No, he would  _not_ give the headcase any more ammunition, not with him preening like a stars-damned  _peacock_ at his reflection in ~~his~~ their lodge's moonlit windows.

It was still strange for him to think of it is  _his_ home, even after the passage of time.  

Besides, his logic decided to rear it's ugly and, even he admitted, sometimes unnecessary head, as it shoved his internal monologue brusquely to the wayside - if this was typical dragon behavior, thank the  _Angel_ Twist was the only one around.  

Sharing their single bathroom with another one would be  _vile_.

Hopefully this new skeleton wasn't so... prissy.

The lanky form of aforemention skeleton slid bonelessly (why was  _Twist_ giggling in his mindscape?) down the wing into Edge's outstretched arms, rather like a boney burrito.  The air itself suddenly felt electrified, like a bolt of lightening was incoming, as the dragon  _snapped_ out of existence with an audible  _crack_.

Twist brushed a fleck of imaginary dirt from his coat.   _Damn_ , he made that look  _smooth_.  He grinned at Edge, rocking from toe-tips to heels like an excited child, eyelight shining.

Edge let out a long-suffering sigh.  "Yes, yes.  Very well done.  Now, are you going to help me get him inside?"

The grin grew impossibly broader.  ~~His skeleton~~ Edge wanted to bring ~~his~~ their ~~new treasure~~ ~~unconscious, drugged, and otherwise _abused_~~   _new_ _friend_ into  ~~his lair~~ their home?

Why yes.  Yes please.

For a half moment he debated.  He could sweep the ~~new treasure~~ limp body and just carry him... 

It wasn't even a conscious decision.  Two steps and he had his arm under the horned skeleton's shoulder, lacing with Edge's opposite.

Touching A L L H I S T R E A S U R E.

He purred.

Edge glared at the shiver that vibrated through him, courtesy of the twined arm.  Damned lizard.  It was too warm a night for him to be cold.

 

* * *

 

 

They propped their mystery skeleton, still swaddled in the liberated blanket, on the couch, Twist moving to get the fire, already laid, going.  Very faintly, the rattling of bones came from the blanket, though the lax face revealed nothing.

It was a work of a few moments to pull the grimy blanket from the unresisting form, and the pair sat back on their proverbial haunches in unison.

"He has a tail?" 

"He has a  _tail_!" 

Aforementioned tail, poking out from the torn shift that was the only clothing the other had, draped lifelessly off the edge of the couch, its spaded tip brushing the floor.  There was a kink in it that was most assuredly not natural, remnants of a poorly healed break.  

"You know what he is, don't you?"

Twist nodded, suppressing the desire to touch.  For now.  "Demon of some sort."  His mind whirled in delight.  A demon?  For his trove?  His internal dragon was clapping its scaly mitts in delight.

Edge fished in his jacket pocked until his phalanges brushed smooth glass, tugging it free.  The glass caught the slowly building licks of flame around its rounded edges, flashing.

"What're those?"

Edge huffed, running a claw over the wording on the label.  "This is what that odious toad was injecting into his SOUL."  He sniffed delicately at the open mouth of the vial, shivering at the scent of  _wrong_ that wafted out.

He hated his creator, but stars be blessed, the enhanced senses had their occasional uses.  

The vampire would have scrunched his nose in disdain, if he had had one.  Better to not even open the door to  _that_.

Instead of focused on the other skeletons.  Well... the dragon and the... horned one?  There was a niggling in the back of his mind of a long-ago, half-remembered fairy tale, but it was just too ethereal for him to catch.  The dragon though...

Dragon lore was old, older than written language, for sure.  When it was put to paper, it was shunted to the back shelves of libraries, treated as fiction.

Edge was old too, and, though his memory of  _the before_ was sometimes too hazy to pin any definite faith in... their home had an  _excellent_ library, especially when it dealt to... the slightly more supernatural things of the world.

He shoved the vial back into his pocket, sighing.  In the few moments he had been lost in thought, Twist had curled up next to their guest and looked like he was trying to cohabitate the same couch cushion.  Twist was in one of his  _moods_ , and it would probably be easiest to just play into it for now, lest be become a petulant, magic-wielding, slightly  _insane_ , dragon.  "Why don't you go get him cleaned up and settled?  I'm going to see what Jerry was pumping into him."  He waited until Twist nodded absently in return, eyes still locked on the horns framing the skeleton's skull, before making his way towards their library.  He had some reading to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Twist continued to purr softly, even after ~~his treasure~~ Edge had left.  That the other was taking the initiative and taking some form of activity revolving around their newest addition pleased the dragon in his mind immensely.  That he got to  ~~hold~~ _~~possess~~_ touch the mystery skeleton soothed him, and the purr in his mind echoed that rumbling through his chest.  

The purr stuttered momentarily when he scooped the limp form up, the  _knowing_ the skeleton was way too light for someone of his size, the  _knowing_ that bones  _don't_ move that way, sending a cold chill momentarily down him.  His hoard needed some tending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I like how I left that off but I guess it works. Twist and Edge really want to keep the spotlight on them, but its time for our third star to make a (more conscious) appearance.
> 
> e: I like the flow much better, post my few edits.


	4. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge hits the library. Twist doesn't hit the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, now that Chapter 3 has some minor edits, I think this will flow a lot better. This was... interesting... to write.
> 
> e: I don't know much about drugging, so just go with "he's a magical skeleton demon monster" for your questions. Good? Good.
> 
> Protip: if you ever find an abused skeleton-demon in a back-alley brothel, don't let your neighborhood dragon do the cleanup.

Twist left the still skeleton on the couch as he veritably  _skipped_ to the bathroom.  Towels went flying as he pulled the softest ones he could find to stack off on the counter.  The first aid kit was yanked from its under-counter storage spot just in case, along with bottles of antiseptics and soap and whatever else Edge had squirreled away.  Water running, not too hot!  It wouldn't do to braise ~~his newest treasure~~ the poor, hurt skeleton.

He didn't want to rush his preparations too much, but letting the other be  _alone_ was... he didn't like it.  Not one bit, no sir.

Water off, towels and soap set to the side...  _yessssssssss._   Both he and the dragon hissed at the same time.  Touching time.

* * *

Twist and his dragon often fought each other for control, neither precisely  _liking_ the other, but making due with what they each had, given that they were permanent roomies.  The dragon was by far the more rational of the pair, but when his hoard was involved?  All bets were off, the sanity turned off like a switch.  He was a seething ball of scales and  _wrath_.  Twist was, admittedly, not entirely sane himself, but he never was, nor pretended to be.  He was... functional.  Mostly.  He could, when the circumstances called for, tame the savage dragon and push him to the background, when a more  _delicate_ touch was called for.  He  _could_ , when he had reason to focus, deal with things.

He had, when he had ~~acquired~~ found Edge.

This was also one of those times.

The dragon actually recognized it too, and went, not quietly, but at least without a fight, into the recesses of ~~its lair~~ Twist's mind and grumbled darkly about Jerrys and shitlords and theory-crafted what a dinner plate-sized claw could do to a 200 pound bag of sentient lard.

Twist made a mental note to let his other half come out to play when this was all cleaned up.

The rag that barely covered the other's clavicles was gone in a few gentle tugs, and there was a moment when he wasn't sure if the dragon was going to behave.  It snarled, echoing across his mindscape, seething like a volcano about to explode.

Damn, he came up with good lines for the damned lizard.  Too bad he couldn't use any at the moment without setting it off.  

Right off, the bones were  _wrong_.  Bone should be smooth, nearly white, with a gentle glossy sheen.  These were... gray.  

A few shifts had him into the tub, propped up against the ceramic tile of the wall in support as Twist dunked a washcloth into the already-clouding water.  

The dragon grumbled.  What was his needed to be  _clean_.

The white cloth came away with a caking of dirt, the patch of humerus Twist had decided to start with now slightly less-gray.  The bone looked far more porous than it should, and the dragon make scathing commentary on their new need to invest in a cow.  Twist didn't disagree.  He reminded the critter that he was rather partial to chocolate milk himself.

The dragon snorted.

He dunked the cloth again and repeated the motion, only satisfied when no more filth lifted off onto cotton surface.  His sharp phalange-tips dug into the fabric, rending little bits of the material free in his agitation.  He let his eyelight flicker out for a moment, using the darkness to ground him.  When he had been a babybones, he had learned the name for  _every_ one of his bones, as a matter of curiosity.  Now he pulled them out of the mental filing cabinet he had nearly forgotten over the years and spoke them as he cleaned each one.  The dragon grabbed for the knowledge, clutching it to himself.  What kind of collector would he be if he didn't know  _everything_ about what made up his hoard?  

The humeral head was clean next, and Twist scrubbed a bar of soap into the washcloth as he began the scapula and clavicle.  He stretched over to the sternum, cleaning back towards himself.  The gentle arches of the  ribs showed evidence of old breaks, the bone thicker than it should be.  He grabbed for a new cloth and began to work on the intercostal spaces, only pausing to make sure there was still no response from the other.  They were...  _sensitive_ places.  He listed off each rib numerically as he moved downward, stopping when he was level with the xiphoid process.  Wringing the cloth yet again, he moved back to the shoulders, his weird mindset almost broken by the chafing and  _scaring_  evident from the suppression collar.  The bone of the lowest cervical vertebrae was worn away, leaving the bone scuffed and fragile.

His skeleton had fought.

The dragon whined, torn.  It  _wanted_ his hoard to be reliant on him, on Twist, on them  _both_ , but there was the pleasure in knowing that it could fight for itself.

There was a notching on the top of the sternum, hinting just how long the heavy collar had been in place, and in exactly what kind of position he had been in.  

Twist's eyelight flickered, and it took the full force of  _knowing_ that the dragon couldn't deal with this to force himself to be as steady, as in-control, as  _sane_ as he was capable of to deal.

One hand lifted the other's skull away from the cool ceramic, the free one probing delicately between the cervicals, anterior and posterior.  The dragon purred, murmuring encouragements to him that yes, be clinical.  Be  _not-Twist_.  The lizard pushed thoughts of control / stability /  _you-can-do-this_ at him.

Twist latched on with mental fingertips and held on for the ride.

Gentle wipes cleaned dirt and... filth... from the off-white mandible, around the nasal aperture, the eye sockets.  A quick rummage through the first-aid kit had cotton swabs out, and thank based  _stars_ he was unconscious.  Every centimeter of cranial suture was went over delicately but thoroughly.  Then the break along the side of the mandible, just below the mastoid process.  More time was taken around each horn, letting the washcloth, now a rag, follow each gentle sweep.

He'd likely have screamed at the sensations if he had been aware.  

Down the sternum, to the xiphoid process, and then the entire process was repeated on the still form's other side.  

The tub was drained, refilled, once.  Twice.  Twist stopped counting.

The dragon didn't.

The dragon held grudges. 

The as-of-yet-unnamed skeleton was tugged forward, and every vertebrae was thoroughly cleaned.  

Radius and ulna, special care taken to the in-betweens.  More evidence of breaks.  Heavy wear around the wrists and the dragon made his opinion of  _that_ known with another low growl.  There was marrow, not all of it entirely dry, on the tip of each phalanges.  The bone-tips, that what should have gentle points to them, were rounded.  Twist frowned, and pulled the hand closer to his face in momentarily contemplation.  The source of some of the gouges on the long bones was now painfully evident.

Another refill of the tub.

Twist's hands were shaking, the soft rattling of bone lost in the splash of water against the tub.  

He almost missed it.  

There was a finger twitch.  

The dragon trumpeted his delight, drowning out any other thought Twist might have had.  

He sat back on his heels and watched for anything else.  Two hours back, plus two hours in the tub so far... hopefully Edge would be back soon with information on what they had been drugging this guy with.  

After a few moments of no further motion, Twist sighed and glared at the nearest washcloth, floating in the tub.

"Hey," he broke the silence, his voice pitched low as to not carry.

The dragon perked its head at him, tongue flicking out.  The tiny motion had calmed it somewhat, but now the boneman wanted to address him directly?  This was...  _uncommon_.

"Ya need to take a chill-pill, lizard lips."

The dragon had the audacity to look innocent.

"I mean it.  This is going to be unpleasant.  Edge'll get pissed if ya go having a meltdown before we're done."

The look changed from innocent to affronted.

"If yer a good boy, ya can have at all ya want later.  But ya gotta behave for now."

A single gold eye peered at him from the inky shadows of the lair, the scaly muzzle a darker splotch on the blackness.  

It nodded slowly in acquiescence.  

Not looking a gift dragon in the mouth, the plug on the tub was pulled again.  

The lower half of the skeleton proved much easier to clean, given that it had been soaking the entire time.  The long bones were all simple, though there was similar chafing around the ankles as there was around the wrists.  The feet took not much longer, thankfully, the grime being less offensive after the soak.  

The pelvic girdle proved to have both the easiest and worst.  The hip bones, with their broad arches, only needed simple wiping, though the filth sloughed off, leaving dingy bone behind.  The tail wasn't actually true bone, feeling instead like wet, velvety cartilage.  It took more willpower than it should have to not play with it. 

The sacrum was...  _caked_. 

He would gloss this over for Edge.  

The plug came free with a final  _pop_ as the tub drained a final time, and Twist kicked his sneakers off.  His shirt followed, and he hoisted the other up, stepping into the tub and slipping an arm under each armpit to cradle him, his back to Twist's front.  He shuffled a bit and turned the water of the shower on for a final rinse, sighing as he gently stroked his phalanges over the coronal suture of the other.

An inquisitive poke.  

Twist gave a quick nod, and the dragon slithered up with a soft rumble.  His arms tightened fractionally over ~~his treasure~~ the other skeleton, and he allowed himself to settle, knowing that they were on the path to ~~getting it well~~ fixing him.

That didn't excuse  _Jerry_ or the other filth for what they had done.  

Oh no. 

But first things first...

They stood in the shower, purring under the spray, until the water temperature started to drop off.

* * *

 

 Edge sighed at the book in front of him and, in a sudden and fleeting moment of fury, took the glass vial and chucked it into the fireplace.  The fireplace took its abuse quietly and went about consuming the offending object. 

Research on dragons done, and everything he had supposed, that he thought he remembered, was pretty much spot on accurate.

Their guest was definitely a demon.  A  _sex_ demon, judging from the tale and horns.  He had snorted at the book, unimpressed.  Incubus or succubus?  How could you tell when a skeleton formed its undercarriage based on the intent of the moment, and he had no idea the preferences of the other?  Given what he'd been taken from, succubus was probable, but he'd stick with  _demon_ for now to make his life easier.

So now they had a dragon, a vampire, and a stars be damned sex demon sharing the same house.  It was the making of a bad joke.

He made note to not let Twist pick up that line of thought.

The drug they had been pumping the demon full of... 

It was some generic benzodiazepine, going off what had been legible on the soiled label.  Not that he had any idea what that was before he had poured through the stack in front of him.  With no idea of the dosage, though he assumed it to be high given just  _what_  the other was, there was most definitely going to be a withdrawal period.

Fabulous.

He covered his eye sockets with his hand for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath to try to fend off the headache he felt coming on.  

It wasn't that it was going to be a long few days.  It wasn't that their house guest was a demon.  It wasn't even that he was a  _sex_ demon.  

It was the knowing that Twist was a dragon, and now knowing how a dragon reacted when what it took to be its own was... not right. 

The reasoning of much of Twist's behavior over the last year became clearer.  The occassional touches, the "accidental" snuggles on the couch.

How considerate he was when he summoned his SOUL to let him feed off it.  Letting Edge take his time, savoring it, never complaining if it had been a bit too long and Edge got a bit too... toothy...

A final sigh and he swept up his books and notes into a neat pile, tucking them under an arm as made to leave the room.  Edge had never  _not_ had a dominate personality, but he had let Twist, let the dragon take the lead.  It was, perhaps, time to be a bit petulant.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yes.


	5. Awake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sleeper awakens. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. Read first. Then notes.

Twist had gotten their demon dried and tucked into the guest bedroom before Edge made his reappearance.  Books set carefully atop the room's dresser, he leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly across his sternum.  

The only evidence of his agitation was the drumming of long, delicate phalanges on his long bones.

A gold eyelight followed his motions.  Twist was perched, rather like an ugly gargoyle, on the foot of the bed, silent except for his eye, expression otherwise carefully blank.

Edge knew better than to trust that look.

"What did you find?"  He decided to not deal with the dragon-who-collected-skeleton-monsters-who-weren't- _just_ -skeleton part of the conversation just yet, putting it mentally on the shelf for now.  The other was clearly agitated, if his stiff posture was anything to go by.  Twist was the personification - monsterification?- of "slouch" and here he was, stiffer than a board.

The eyelight flickered fractionally before sparking back, excess magic starting to tinge the air around him of a gold the same color as a daybreak.  "Kiddo's pretty rough," he said slowly, clearly enunciating his words.  "Lots of breaks, some old, some not.  Magic has got to be the dregs.  Could do with a steak or five, underweight as hell.  Shit all for bone density."  He shifted, the dim light of the room casting long shadows over the carpeted floor.  "Did what I could for the breaks and major stuff."

The vampire nodded slowly, reaching to tug a folded slip of paper from his jacket pocket.  He smoothed the creases methodically, flattening it, the cracking of the crease the only sound.  

He didn't look at it, instead passing it over.  Twist took it with a raised bonebrow as Edge settled back into his former position, motions carefully precise.  

"What's this?" he asked before looking down.  Edge had gracefully flowing script, as elegant and smooth as the skeleton himself, but these words sent a shiver up his spine with how jarring their nature was.

_Tremors.  Panic attacks, anxiety.  Short term mental disruption - memory and concentration loss.  General pain and stiffness.  Disturbed sleep.  Nausea._

_Emotional imbalance._

_Convulsions._

He crumpled the paper into a ball before continuing down the list, each successive line worse than the one before.  He stared at where the offending slip was, aware that his magic was leaking more now than just a few moments earlier.  His fist clenched convulsively and he reflexively shoved it into jean pocket.  At least he could hide that tell, as much as the eye was a dead giveaway.

Edge looked  _almost_ contrite.  "Withdrawal symptoms," he said simply.  "Best case to worst."

Twist was up like a shot, he and the dragon snapping in unison.  

One two three four pivot repeat.  One two three four pivot repeat.  The need to bleed off some of the angry energy left him moving so fast he left a streak of gold specks in the air behind him, which he sent flying each time he passed through the trail of his own magic.  Edge let this go on without comment, hoping he'd burn the surge of energy off without breaking anything.

Yeah, sure.  He shook his head.  Lying to oneself was never healthy.

Five minutes, ten.  The grandfather clock in the hall ticked ominously in the dark, keeping a lonely track of Twist's circuits. 

Edge was about to grouse, mandible half-way down, when both jerked, as if on the same chain.

The demon's hand, limp across his quilt-covered chest,  _spasmed_.

* * *

After nothing else had happened, Edge had left to grab a quick bite (heh) and a nap, while Twist found himself hovering at the demon's bedside.  The dragon was cranky in his concern about ~~his prize~~ the other, but kept its outbursts mostly contained.

They sat.

They waited.

And kept watch.

And  _protected_.

And, exactly seven hours, twenty eight and a half minutes after Edge had popped the suppression collar off his delicate cervicals, the demon finally fought his way to consciousness.

Twist had missed the tiny, barely audible groan.

The dragon hadn't.

The chair nearly went flying in his burst of motion to get closer.  

The demon's mandible, that had fallen open over the hours, was now clenched beneath wide eye sockets.

Wide, dark and  _empty_ sockets.

 ~~His treasure~~  The demon lacked enough magic for even his eyelights?  Twist growled low in his throat, the sound choking off as the demon weakly rolled his skull towards the soft sound, unseeing sockets void.

It was an open face that met his searching look, one with broad planes of bone and gently sweeping cheek bones.  Broad, flat teeth populated a jaw framed by two slightly larger upper canines, the fangs nothing compared to Edge's, but suited the otherwise gentle appearance.  Dark bags marred the bone under the sockets, giving the impression they were larger than they already were.  All together though, he couldn't care less, nor could the dragon.  The demon was  _ ~~his~~_   _ ~~theirs~~_ with them, and that was enough.

The jaw slipping open snapped his wandering mind back to attention.  Words were shaped, but no sound.  The look of panic was impossible to miss as the demon tried again, but again, silence.

Silence.

His body tensed fractionally in an attempt to move.  

Nothing.

The tiniest hint of orange, the color of the horizon just before sunset, rimmed the demon's sockets.  Not even enough magic to cry.

The dragon did it for him.

Twist pushed his chair back to its original position at the bedside and reached for the lax hand, ignoring the unconscious twitches of bone against bone, pulling it closer as he settled back down.  He cradled the brittle bones in his own, gently massaging each individual one as he bent closer.  

They spoke soft words to their demon, words of care and concern, as they pulled their magic up and began to project  _safety_ /  _healing_ /  _not alone_.

The physical contact should have helped, but for projecting to work, there had to be an existing desire, a receptiveness, for said projections to take.

It was like his magic hit a breakwater, the gold magic flaring, swirling in Twist's own socket in reaction. 

The gentle rattling of bones broke him free of what was building into a hurricane of grief-fueled rage.

 ~~His~~ The poor skeleton was so weak, couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't talk... couldn't cry.

This would never happen again, the dragon decided imperiously.  Whether or not the skeleton was his?  Moot point.  If he had to bring every other skeleton he could into his hoard, his  _home_ to prevent this?  To  _protect_ them?  Well, he might need a bigger lair, but that was easily remedied.

Twist agreed with his lizard whole-heartedly, not quite prepared to fully examine the maelstrom of emotions the joint declaration had dredged up just yet, but definitely on board with it.  He hunched over, teeth nearly pressed to the demon's acoustic meatus.  It didn't matter if his skeleton could actually hear the words of his promises, he spoke them anyway.  It was the  _intent_ that mattered, his low voice carrying the full weight of his joint conviction to see him whole and well.

* * *

It wasn't long before his demon's bone-rattling finally tapered off, the tension draining from the slender frame.

Twist had kept his whispers and gentle hand massaging up, stopping only when Edge cleared his throat from the doorway.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, stars above, and doubt I will ever say this again.  In fact, I will never admit to this either, but Twist, I need your help.  In the kitchen."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaand here we have the dragon and Twist merging back into one mentality.
> 
> All of my italics and dragon-redactions are as intended. ;)
> 
> So my dragon-lore headcanon is (shamelessly copied from a comment I made last night) -  
> Right now, I'm leaning toward Twist being the way he is because his dragon doesn't have a hoard to protect. Edge is a nice start to one, but the more the gains, the more settled and incorporated into his normal personality/mentality Twist will be. Kinda like Smaug - he was a mean ass mofo and pretty much burnt the mountain down to get into the Dwarves treasure, but once he had it, he was content to nest on it until it was threatened with its loss. That (the loss of a previous hoard perhaps? I mean, Tolkien never got into what sent his fire drake from the north southwards in the first place, to my knowledge - maybe the loss of a treasure cache just throws dragon-kind off the deep end).


	6. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge would be wicked good at selling used cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. Read first. Then notes.

Twist's rather spacious lodge would have been overkill for a dozen inhabitants.  

Each resident (including the newest one!) had a bedroom of their own with attached bath, with a trio of nondescript, unoccupied bedrooms to boot.  Living room, dining room, and library fell into the "public" areas, all furnished in a very rustic fashion.  Twist had a small office attached to his room where he spent time tinkering with whatever had caught his passing fancy.  Doodles and notebooks were stacked haphazardly around the room, interspersed with newspaper clippings with circles and arrows and scribbles in illegible runes.  Trinkets and baubles and  _junk_ of all sorts lined the shelves in ways that made no sense to anyone but himself.  It was very much  _his_ place, and the dragon felt at as much peace there as it did anywhere else.  It's centralized position in the house was soothing, knowing that his hoard was all around him.

The kitchen... that was Edge's.   

He had gone exploring, the day after Edge had bought him home.  The dragon had been beyond mellow, now that his hoard had come into existence again ~~NO NOT GOING THERE NO HE HAD A HOARD AGAIN THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG EVERYTHING WAS J U S T F I N E~~ , basking in his mind lazily.  He had heard the other's footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty building, the steady heel-toe paces methodical in their exploration.  Doors opened and shut, a few whispered comments about hideous color combinations, varied rustlings.  

The swinging door into the kitchen  _swooshed_ , its normally soundless passage loud in the otherwise silent house.

Twist had never heard another adult make  _that_ sound before, certainly not one who claimed to be a male, and he had lurched to his feet and was down the hallway before consciously making the decision to move.  What had caused that sound?  Was his ~~treasure~~ new roommate  _hurt_?  

He hit the door at a dead run.

Edge stood in the center of the kitchen, his eyelights bright and were those  _stars_?  Jerking back to awareness at Twist's entry, he dashed to the cabinets and started yanking them open.  

The stars phased into hearts.

* * *

Edge had spent the next week reorganizing the kitchen to his personal specifications, and had calmly and quite seriously informed Twist that it was now  _his_ kitchen, thank you kindly sir, and that  _this_ was his shopping list of what he exactly needed, don't be a cheap bastard and get sub-par ingredients or  _else,_ if his continued presence was expected. 

He failed to point out that he  _needed_ Twist's magic to survive, and Twist himself was too thrilled to care.  The dragon didn't care, not really, where his hoard was, as long as it  _was_.

He'd follow the skeleton to the ends of the world itself to keep him happy, to keep him  _his_.  

He had acquiesced, getting the ingredients, and bought them obediently back.

And was promptly kicked out of the kitchen.

The lamb roast that was produced for dinner that night stemmed off the dragon's displeasure.  The dragon was quite fond of mint jelly, after all.

* * *

 

In nearly a year, he had received exactly four invitations into the kitchen, and each one had him acting the part of a pack mule for Edge's groceries.  

The dragon purred in pleasure as the door swung shut behind him, content just to be in close proximity to his skeleton, pleased that he was in good condition.

Edge raised an eyeridge at him, pointing him at the cutting board set up on the far counter.  "Dice that chicken breast finely, then add it to the pot on the stove."

He moved to obey, humming tunelessly to himself as he picked up the knife and began.  "What's this for?" he asked, peering over his shoulder.  The half-seated lid, vibrating lightly, released a gently hissing steam which rose above, curling a bit like his magic was prone to do, filling the kitchen with a soothing sense of  _home_.  He reached a hand toward the lid, only to jerk it back as Edge cracked a wooden spoon over his metacarpals.  

"Not for you," Edge pulled the lid to stir the pot's contents, then reset the lid so the steam could still escape.  "It  _will_ be chicken soup, once we're done."  He watched Twist shook out his fingers, then grasp the knife and began, drawing the blade through the pile of chicken, suppressing the urge to teach him the proper dicing technique.  That wasn't a dice, that was a  _mince_...

It didn't matter.  Focus.

"Proper cooking for nourishment, for magic replenishment, requires  _intent_ , otherwise its just calories.  You need put intent into it if you want your... prize... to have a solid chance of recovery."

The scraping sounds of the knife across the wood cutting board stopped, Twist frozen in place.  The clatter of it hitting the counter went unnoticed.

He slumped his chin against his sternum, hands clenched.  The dragon lashed violently as Twist's eyelight guttered out, his magic sparking painfully around his dark socket as the panic began to really set in. His... his treasure knew?   _Inconcievable_!  Now he'd leave ~~like~~ ~~ _the before_~~ and he'd be alone and he'd -

The sudden presence of weight on his clavicle snapped him back, his eyelight rekindling into a tiny yellow speck.  His magic fizzled out like a dying candle, leaving only a few floating motes of gold as proof it was ever there.  

His treasure... was still there?  Was  _touching_ him?  Even  _knowing_ what he was?   _What he was to him, to them?_   

Edge sighed, shoving the other gently against the counter, out of easy range of the knife.  Just in case.  He reached over to the stove, turning the heat down, then settled his full attention on Twist.

"I did a bit of research on dragons while I was checking out what our guest is."  Edge kept his arms crossed loosely over his chest in what he hoped was a non-combatitive fashion.  He had spent a lot of time thinking about this while he had supposed to have been napping, trying to be candid with himself.  

Candid and truthful.

Two sides of the same coin, but stars be damned, neither completely palatable.

Twist's chin dropped fractionally, the eyelight constricting even further.  "And?" he choked out.  "What did ya find out?"

"Tell me about your treasure."

The light vanished again, and the tall skeleton looked for all the world like a child with his hand caught in a cookie jar.  "Ya probably don't won't ta he-"

"I probably won't.  So I'll tell you about it instead."  Edge took a deep breath, letting his head tip back for a moment as he drew his thoughts together. He was not willing to let his control of this conversation slip.  "In short?  You're old, you're a  _dragon_.  Something happened to your treasure, and you've been trying to start replacing it."

"I'm the first piece."

"The demon in the guest room is the second."

Twist whined low in his throat, chin sinking even further forward as he hunched.  

Edge glared.  "Stop being melodramatic, you prick."  He stepped forward, just inside he would reasonably consider Twist's personal bubble.  

He took another half step in, dropping his weight just a bit...

And landed a punch solidly in Twist's ribs.

The mass recoiled against his clenched fist, but nothing cracked.  Twist's sockets both went wide in shock as he slumped back, his chin snapping up.  Both he and the dragon were too shocked to really do anything other than stare at Edge, mandible part-way open.

"That," Edge had already returned to his previous position, "you may whine about, if you wish. _That_ was for not telling me about your damned lizard shenanigans in the _year_ I've been here."  His arms were refolded, his own eyelights watching Twist as he pulled himself back up as the shock faded.  "Originally, I had planned on being far more hostile, but realistically, and as much as I hate to admit it?"  He chuckled at the sheer irony.

"I  _need_ you just as much as you need me."

* * *

It hadn't hurt, the punch.

Sure, Edge had put some force behind it, and being a vampire, it had been a good deal more force than he'd have been able to put forth otherwise, but there had been no  _intent_ to it.  

Twist appreciated that a bit more than the dragon did.  

The dragon was squirreled away in the recesses of his mind, totally off balance and not knowing  _how_ to deal with this.  

He straightened, his single eyelight brightening as he shifted uncomfortably.  Edge... Edge didn't  _look_ mad.  Well, he looked irked-mad, but not Edge-mad.  Certainly not livid-mad, or seething-mad.  Not even I-spilled-my-cup-of-coffee-on-the-rug-mad.  He looked more... resigned?  Uncomfortable?  

Disappointed?

Twist wanted to join his dragon in the back corner of his mind, just as off balance.

Edge's look kept him still.

"Ye-yer not... mad?" 

The other snorted.  "Are you serious?  I'm absolutely  _livid_ for you just not telling me.  But again, rationally, we need each other.  What I read... well..."  His cheekbones briefly colored red as his magic flushed in embarrassment.  "I need your magic to survive.  I will not let my... my M _aker_ ," he hissed the word, "Be the last one standing.  You?"  He let his hands settle on his hip, visibly coming to a decision.  "I want to talk to the dragon."

* * *

The change perceptible when Twist let his dragon fully out.  His eyelight flared brighter and took on a more fluorescent hue, and his entire posture shifted.  Gone was the lazy slouch, the easy, shit-eating half smile.  In its place was a stiff skeleton, agitation clear.  

"Yes?"  Edge was surprised that he actually hissed, the syllabant stretching out.

He took a moment, framing his words, feeling for all the world like he was making a deal with the devil.  "I'm part of your...  _treasure_... right?  And Twist has made it clear that he'll just follow me around if I leave, is this also correct?"

The dragon nodded slowly, not sure where this was going.  A creature of his age didn't like surprises, but at the same time...

_His treasure was speaking directly to him!_   He shivered in delight, his scales rippling down his hide.  Really, honest to the Angel, speaking to him!  And- oh.  Looking for a response.

"Would follow to keep safe," he muttered.  Talking was such an inefficient form of communication, it made him feel so disjointed.

Edge nodded, as if affirming something to himself.  He straightened even more.  "I'll make a deal with you.  Let me talk to Twist again."

* * *

Twist  _did_ shake himself out when the dragon slunk back to his corner, giving himself a mental and physical once-over.  All pieces still attached?  Fabulous!  Maybe there was hope for the day anyway.  He cracked his cervicals loudly, then popped individual finger joints.

Edge glared.  

Twist grinned, eyelight back to normal and twinkling.  "Deal?"

"This other monster you've...  _found_... you want him to be... yours... too, yes?"  He didn't wait for a response before pushing on.  "I'll stay with you,  _voluntarily_ , on the condition that you give him the choice of what he wants to do when he's recovered.  You don't interfere with that recovery, you don't try to push intent on-  _don't you shake your head at me_ , I know you can do it."  Edge hissed out his anger in the middle, then took a moment to settle himself.  "I know you're capable of impressing yourself on people, you did it with that Jerry creature.  But I'll stay, if you give him the choice of what to do, and abide by it regardless of what it is."

Once, in the before, Edge had semi-fond memories of being the protector of someone smaller, weaker than himself... at least until it had all gone to hell.  It sent a warm tingle deep into his SOUL, one that he wouldn't admit, certainly not to Twist, but the damned lizard had inadvertently given him a way of redeeming himself.  

The taller skeleton looked like Christmas had come early.  "That's it?  All ya want?  Fer him to have a choice?"   _To maybe stay?_ went unspoken, but was mentally added by both.

Edge nodded.

In that split second, before Edge could even twitch, Twist had wrapped his arms around him, lifted him straight up, and spun him around, an insane grin lighting up his entire face.  "I can do that!" he crowed as Edge struggled to free his arms and be put down.  "I really can do that!  That's easy I can be the  _best_ at doing that!"

"Put me down you lout," Edge resorted to kicking at Twist's femurs to little avail.  "We need to finish the soup before he wakes up again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Kit - this had actually been written for most of the day prior to your tumblr post about collecting, just found it amusing as heck that it meshed with what I had already figured on Twist having a random assortment of ~things~
> 
> Edge is smart cookie. Whatever he was in ~the before~ aside, his Maker gave him the crash course on vampire survival. Besides, how long had he been alone, in the mill, before Twist found him? He had _had_ to learn how to be creative to survive, and in this case, he almost _has_ to stay with Twist if he wants to do that. To a degree, he's being altruistic, giving Rus a chance to not be tied to the dragon, but at the same time, he's being his normally Edgey-self, setting up the agreement on his own terms, since I really don't feel like he'd leave Twist. He can feed off of Twist's magic without hurting anyone, and that's what sets him off, had him hiding in the mill in the first place. The dragon, as much as it would follow him over hill and dale, would much prefer his treasure to stay with him at a permanent place, on its own.
> 
> I feel like this is very disjointed, but it works, and that's what the boys are giving me to work with. 
> 
> Also I feel like I suck at writing realistic dialogue.
> 
> Shortish and generally un-proofed because I feel like I have the ebola. PSA: if you live in the northeast, be nice to your mailman when the high is -15F. Trust me, we don't really care about how long it took you to get bundled up to go walk your dog as you're standing inside your nice warm entryway and we're out in the snow/cold/wind/COLD, especially when you couldn't give us the time of day 99.9999999% of the time.


	7. Soup with a Side of Flashback.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are flashbacks, Edge is less an edgelord than normal, and Twist is taking a nap.
> 
> Will Rus finally be coherent in this chapter? Stay tuned to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk: nothing really graphic, but there's definite mentions of inappropriate use of magic. I suppose I should actually make mention that there is in fact a good deal of Rus whump-age in this chapter. Also Jerry is a vile shite.

He came back to himself slowly, haltingly.  Everything hurt, he felt so heavy.

He tried to light his eyelights but his magic was nebulous, dancing away from his reaching grasp, like stardust.

He realized suddenly that he was trembling, bones rattling only partly muffled by the... blanket?  Jerry never let him have a blanket, saying it would just get dirtied, that he wasn't  _worth_ a blanket.  Yet, there was one draped across bones that felt otherwise bare.  His sight was returning, but everything was just indistinct blobs of color.  There... there was  _intent_ woven into the heavy material, but beyond that he couldn't tell, was afraid to tell.  If he could tell what it was, he could  _feel_ it, and that...

That would  _hurt_.

Jerry had tried that, early on - clothes and collars and bedding laced with intent, to make him more obedient, to get him to lower his guard...

Oh stars.  Did Jerry finally get tired of him and sell him off?  He had threatened it more than a few times, usually after he had lashed out, had hurt one of the hired help, or _customers_ , or himself, in his desperation and terror.  Was his newest captor going to try to break him?  He inhaled sharply, the chill air catching in his otherwise dry mouth.  Could he be broken again and still have enough pieces to slap back together?

His thoughts shattered in his welling terror, any rationality he had vanishing like dust on the wind.

He whined in the back of his throat, unable to move or make any other sound.  They'd come and  _touch_ him and hurt him and  _take_ from him... Not again, please  _Angel_ , not again.  He tried,  _stars_ how he tried, to beg forgiveness, for anything, to  _stop_ , for  _help_.

But he knew no one would come.

His disjointed memories assured him of it.

No one ever did.

* * *

Edge had gotten Twist to finally go and rest, and had stepped from the guest room for a glass of water.

 _Of course_ the demon wakes up when he's just outside.

He stepped silently back inside, pulling the door shut with a barely audible  _click_.  The demon's form had stiffened in his momentary absence, his spine nearly bowed.  His bones above the blanket, his arms and phalanges, were visibly ratting against themselves.  Judging from the blanket's movements, they were full-bodied tremors.  His sockets were blown wide, the faint tinge of orange magic tinging the bone beneath as Twist had mentioned.  The most concerning thing...

The eerily crooning wail, barely louder than a whisper, pulled at at emotions Edge thought had died at... at his Making.

He frowned as he sat on the bedside, long phalanges fingering the hem of the blanket.  There had been enough intent put into the making of the blanket (he suspected Twist's work) to calm and sooth even the worst emotions he himself had thrown at it.  A brief moment of concentration and his magic flared, strengthening the enchantments.

The wail stuttered, then resumed with a more frantic urgency.

Edge cursed under his breath.  He hadn't expected a negative response to the low-level magic, certainly not magic pressing  _safety / comfort / healing_.

The wail tapered into a gasping wheeze.

Edge jerked his hand back, biting back another curse.  He counted slowly to ten, fifteen, twenty, hoping the demon could pull himself from his panic.

* * *

He was choking, the collar digging in, the cuffs biting, chafing.  The body above him pressed painfully into his pelvic girdle, and the crack of his pelvis breaking was covered only by his scream.  Something soft, a rag? was forced between his teeth, and he choked for air, thrashing as much as the bonds would allow.  Jerry's face appeared, amidst the black spots in his vision, and a leering smile spread across his face.  

There was a tug, and he thrashed harder as his SOUL, his poor, abraded SOUL, appeared in the air above him.  It was pitiful these days, the once-vibrant orange it had been now muted and more of a muddy brown than anything else.  His thrashing redoubled as another set of hands pushed against him, pinning him.

He could feel tears mixing with what little magic he had available to expend dripping down his cheeks as another pair of hands appeared, another set of cuffs in hand.  These nearly  _glowed_ with the amount of magic imbued on them, and he howled around the stinking rag, knowing without a doubt that those on him would lead for a very, very bad time.  

His howls meant nothing as the figures forced him still.  The cuffs fastened with a  _click_ he felt more than heard.  The hands slowly let go...

And he couldn't  _make_ himself move,  _make_ himself struggle.   _Oh stars_.

He whimpered as Jerry suggested coyly he open his mouth, but couldn't stop his mandible from acting against the magic.

_Oh stars make it stop please Angel please make it stop no no no_

* * *

Edge hesitated only for a split second after the demon began to spasm in what  _had_ to be painful ways.  

The cup of water he had bought in found itself in his hand and turned over end, sending few remaining ounces dumping over the other's skull.

The spasms immediately stopped, his entire body again going rigid, jaw clenched and sockets impossibly wide, then slumped just as quickly.

Edge would have thought he had passed out if it wasn't for the tiny  _whuffs_ of air passing through his nasal aperture, probably the closest the poor bastard could get to actually crying.  He sighed, putting the glass back on the nightstand.  Waking up Twist would be the quickest way of cleaning this up, but then he'd have to deal with Twist.  The conversation in the kitchen had exhausted him mentally more than he was ready to admit, and he needed time to find his balance.  

He settled back on the bed, reaching under the limp skeleton and pulling him up so that he slumped against his broader form.  There was the faintest whine from the other, but Edge shut it out for a moment as he scooped the other up.  Three quick steps across the room had him in the armchair by the fire, wrapped efficiently in the throw that hung on the back.  He paused for a moment before heading out into the hall for dry linens, turning back to the skeleton.  He bent over so his mandible nearly brushed the other's acoustic meatus, bringing his free hand to gently rub at the sensitive spaces between his cervicals.  "Stay still," he murmured, carefully  _not_ projecting and keeping his own emotions and magic in check.  "This will only take a moment."

* * *

The water felt like ice bullets as it hit his bone, making the images of Jerry and _ohstarsstop_  vanish, only to be replaced by shapeless blobs of color.  For a brief moment that stretched a hundred years, he felt nothing other than cold wetness dripping down his cervicals and through his mandibles, pooling in the divots and gouges in his bone.  Then there were hands again.

These hands weren't like the others though.  They felt like bone against his own, and he knew that none of Jerry's regulars had been a skeleton.  They didn't poke or prod, either, instead carefully lifting him out of the puddle.  The chest he found himself against was broad and... and  _comfortable_... but he couldn't make out anything other than the shapeless blob of off-white that had to be the other's face.  All too fast, the warm body against his was gone, and he was propped in something soft.  A gentle pressure and there was a splotch of dark red against his legs?  He guessed that's what they were, but he felt so disconnected.

A soft breath against his cheek made him twitch weakly.  Soft words, telling him to stay still, sounded like they were coming from a hundred miles away.  He could do that, he guessed.  He was  _warm_ , and his bedraggled mind just couldn't process any more than the simple instruction and that.

* * *

Edge had the wet linen off the bed, a towel down to soak up the water, and new linen on the mattress in what had to be record time.  He scooped the other back up and resettled him, using the spare pillows to keep him from rolling should  _that_ happen again.  He left him slightly propped, reaching across to the bowl that had been set on the nightstand earlier.   The spoon rattled against the lip of the ceramic until it fell against his thumb, and he sat in the spot he seemed to keep finding himself in.  

The demon's skull rolled limply at the sound of metal-on-ceramic, empty sockets looking off into space.  

He leaned over slowly, giving the other time to process his motions.  "I'm going to try to get some soup into you, is that acceptable?"  He enunciated his words carefully and slowly, like he was talking to a babybones.  

He took the fractional drop of the chin as consent.  

Moving his cupped hands closer, he drew a shallow spoon of chicken broth from the bowl and pressed it against the other's teeth.  There was a momentary resistance, a momentary stab of panic through the air accompanied by a choked whine, and the mandible fell open just enough for the tip of the spoon to find entry.  

It took a moment, but the demon swallowed, and Edge kept repeating the motions until the bowl was emptied.  He turned, setting it back on the bedside, spoon inside it so as to not leave any drips on the wood surface, and shifted back.

Dual, tiny pinpricks of light peered at him from the center of the dark sockets, hints of orange magic, real tears this time, trickling from the corners.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [5:54 PM] Beffs: ITS SUCH A PAIN WHEN HIS NAME IS EDGE AND I'M LITERALLY TALKING ABOUT HIM SITTING ON THE EDGE OF SOMETHING TOUCHING THE EDGE OF SOMETHING ELSE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> [5:54 PM] mhtardis21: Hahaha  
> [5:54 PM] DAMARiS: ROFL  
> [5:54 PM] Decaytale: edge sitting on edge and touching edge... damn that threesome selfcest  
> [5:54 PM] Beffs: YES I KNOW  
> [5:55 PM] mhtardis21: Lol  
> [5:55 PM] Decaytale: I ship it  
> [5:55 PM] DAMARiS: Edgy edge sitting on the edge of a ledge poking at the edge


	8. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has questions. Our demon doesn't have the answers. Twist didn't want that nap anyway.
> 
> Jerry is the epitome of douchecanoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which all three of the skeletons display unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The eyelights were hazy, distant, but their existence was most certainly a step in the right direction.  Edge stayed motionless as they tracked around the room, snapping, wavering, as if looking for others looking in the shadows.  They kept flicking back to Edge, as if his existence was the one set point the demon could focus on.

The orange magic collecting at the bottom of his eyes welled and began slowly dripping down his face, tracking the curve of his mandible, some trickling down and tracing the dark circles beneath his sockets.  His chest stuttered with the force of a sob he didn't have the energy for, and the keening started again, softer this time.  

Edge fiddled with the blanket, tugging it so everything below the demon's clavicle was covered.  He didn't know much of demon biology - hell, his own knowledge of skeletons had begun to fade since vampires were resistant to most things - but he did know the other had enough stacked against him that it wasn't worth risking a cold or something worse.  

The other flinched, tears flowing faster, and for just a moment Edge was bought back to his Before, when a bony face so different yet so alike looked up at him with the same desperate look.  

If the magic was darker, it might well have been the same face.

The dim eyelights before him flickered, and the moment was gone.  For the best, be decided.  The here and now was what mattered, not long-forgotten ghosts and regrets.

* * *

He flinched again at the other skeleton's sigh, desperately wishing he could stop his tears.  Jerry  _hated_ them, hated them enough he'd inevitably come back with the thick needle that took _everything_ away.

He had no idea where he was.  This wasn't any room he'd been in before, was it?  He tried to search his memory but met a wall.  He huffed a defeated sound that caught roughly in his throat.  Had Jerry finally sold him off?  Had he finally become too  _difficult_ to keep?  It hurt so very much sometimes that he didn't know why he fought anymore, but he couldn't  _not_ fight, but that made it hurt more... 

His eyelights snapped back into being as the other skeleton tugged the blanket up over him.  This one... this one didn't have any intent imbued on it, not like the one from before, but this only confused him more.  Did... did his new... owner? captor?... did he not need it?  Was he confident enough that he didn't need to break him like that?  Was he-

"Stop that."

The bony hand applied soft pressure to his sternum, the warm, smooth bone pressing against an expanse of dingy, porous.  Unlike so many other touches though, there was no emotion, no intent carried on it.  

He wheezed out a questioning sound, breath hitching before he could shape, force out true words.  He felt himself flinch again, uncontrollably, as the other sat.  The mattress settled, the single point of contact remaining.  

The other skeleton seemed to stretch forever, the dark outfit he had on accentuating his height and slimness.  Red eyelights were appraising, but not in the way he was used to.  He didn't feel like  _prey_ , like  _meat_ , despite his canines being elongated, pronounced, framing a mouth of similarly sharp-looking fangs.  The crack through his socket caught just enough of the firelight to make his face seem more... skeletal.

The other let out his own huff.  "We're not sure how long you were in that shithole," he began softly, keeping the steady pressure up on the other as a grounding point.  "We don't want to push you, but do you think you can answer a few questions?"

* * *

Edge was mildly concerned he was pushing the other way too hard, too fast, and was about to withdraw the request, when the demon nodded, jaw clenched hard enough that the faintest tinge of orange colored the joint.  

In pain, fear, or determination was yet to be seen.

Probably all three.

"Before we really start, do you think you have enough magic back to talk yet?"  Edge was mentally debating with himself - quite prepared to pull the plug on this experiment if the other wasn't coherent enough.

Stars, the demon had the most expressive eyelights he had ever seen on a skeleton.  His nasal ridge tinged orange, sockets going wide and open, making him look painfully young.  Those eyelights... they lost focus for a brief moment, his chin then snapping up as he worked his jaw.  They sharpened then, harder than diamond, yet his emotions played visibly across them, as the flush spread across his cheeks.  "M-me-b?"" he croaked, voice cracking painfully from disuse, barely discernible.  

He whimpered at the sound he produced, slumping even further against the pillows.  Was this his new tormentor?  Would he be punished for his inability to speak after so many months of being punished for making any sound?  He was so caught up he missed the momentary disappearance of the pressure on his chest, of the slight sagging of the bed.  It was back a scarce few moments later, a hand guiding the moist rim of a glass to his teeth.  He hesitated a moment; Jerry had never been above slipping things into his water, but the desert that was his mouth forced his decision.  He gulped messily, sloshing water down his jaw, before it was pulled away.  The glass  _clinked_ down on the side table, and the pressure on his sternum resumed, the single point of contact remaining the single point.  

The again-seated skeleton kept his neutral position.  "Do you have any idea how long that toad had you for?"

The pleasant moistness that had just cooled down his throat now felt thick, the cool prickles now feeling like shards of glass, stabbing pain sending him wheezing again, tears flowing freely again.

* * *

This time he successfully kept his sigh to himself.  Definitely too much too fast.  Stars, he really could be an idiot sometimes.  Twist's impatience was rubbing off far too much on him.

The demon's eyelights had gone dimmer as his skull shook a weak negative to his last question, continuing to rock his head back and forth against the pillows.  Tears soaked into the pillowcase beneath him, orange magic dying the darker fabric.  

Edge manifested a tongue to bite down on to smother his agitation at himself, knowing the other would pick up on the emotion and spiral further away.  It took most of his self-control, honed over a year of dealing with Twist, to  _not_ project at the shivering pile of bones, and it left a sour taste to have that tool taken away.  

"You don't have to worry about going back to  _that_ place," he spoke slowly again, trying to see the face that was in the here and now and not the one from years past.  "Jerry has been dealt with, and you're welcome to stay here as long as you want or need."  The drawn face faded, a younger, rounder one taking its place.  The image snapped back to the broken demon, his expression screaming of confused vulnerability.

"You're likely going to be sicker than not for some time.  Your magic needs to purge whatever the bastard was putting into your SOUL.  It will likely be unpleasant, but the only other way would be to slowly ween yo-"

The frantic whine left him bitterly chuckling.  Their little demon apparently didn't need words to make himself understood.  "Fine.  Cold turkey it is."

His phalanges, still splayed across the demon's sternum, twitched, reminding him how long they had been in the awkward position.  He pulled it away slowly, not missing how the other's gaze focused completely on it.  

"I'm Edge," he spoke softly as the whine trailed off.  "The other," he hesitated for a moment, "skeleton here is Twist.  He's... special."

"What's your name?"

* * *

 

It didn't take a genius to realize that was  _not_ a good question to ask.  Before the question had even faded to silence, the demon's eyelights were gone, snuffed out like guttering candles.  His body had gone rigid again, even his tears seemingly frozen in that moment.

One SOUL beat.

Two.

For that third moment, it seemed as if Edge had successfully navigated the minefield unscathed, his hand halfway back to its previous position to offer a grounding point.  

Then the dam broke.

Drawing on whatever dregs of energy had had hoarded, gathered from the soup, pulled out of the air itself, the demon wailed, the loneliest, most forlorn sound the vampire had ever imagined.  

* * *

He had frozen at the question, his mind going into a frenzy.  Name?   _Name_?  He had a name, right?  

He searched his memories, growing more and more frantic as there seemed to be so very few.  He remembered the early days under Jerry's thumb, but not how he got there, nothing before.  Before, there was only cerulean blue, like the sky (how did he know that?  Jerry certainly never let him out, his cell had no window.) on a spring (wha-?) day.  There was only hands and pain and angry voices saying cruel things.

Useless.

Whore. 

Demon slut.

Useless.

Garbage.

Unworthy.

Useless.

Crap.

Useless.

Useless.

 _Useless_.

His eyelights died, taking the clarity of his sight, leaving him back again in the realm of colored blobs.  The skeleton, the one who had fed him?  He had been distant in his questions in hsi questions, but he hadn't tried to hurt him (yet), hadn't tried to  _take_ (yet), but had helped to calm him before - the other skeleton hadn't known, couldn't have known -

Jerry had taken  _everything_.

He wasn't crying for himself.  

He was crying for the skeleton he had once been, a bastard long lost to time.

* * *

Twist had finally gotten himself comfortable ~~in his nest~~ bed, there to humor ~~his treasure~~ Edge.

The dragon wasn't sure whether to be annoyed that the vampire had wormed a promise out of him, or incredibly smug that ~~what was his~~ he was so clever.

Dragons did tend to prize ingenuity, after all.

Nestled in a mound of pillows, he hummed a random pub song, eyelight dimming.  Restless phalanges crept up to the crack around his broken socket, sharp bone-tips catching on the jagged edges.  

He liked the shivers of pain.

They meant he could still feel.

The dragon  _hated_ them.

It hated when his treasures were hurting.

Claws slipped away before the lizard could start haranguing him for his bad habits, instead tangling in his sheet.  Faint crackles of static electricity tickled his femurs as the fleecy lounge pants he wore rubbed against the cotton, leaving him giggling like a babybones at the sensation.

He flipped, skull just hitting the pillow, as the peaceful silence of the lodge was broken by a desperate, choked howl of  _agony / despair / hurt / alone / pain / USELESS_. 

The dragon trumpeted a challenge as Twist threw himself forward, long limbs trapped in his previously comfortable sheets.  Now they just confined him, and they tore as he fought his way out.  

Something was hurting  _his_ treasure.

Aw fuck no.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twist will definitely play a very, very large part in the next chapter. A little bit more trauma to Rus, then we'll head towards The Fabled Argument referenced by Kit.


	9. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus loses his shit. Edge loses less his shit. Twist has no shit to lose. The dragon is a shit.
> 
> A decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* HOLY CRAP THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS. I'm actually trying to respond to all of them, slowly.
> 
> Read first, then more notes.

Edge had learned a good deal about Twist (and his dragon) in their year of cohabitation.  

Twist loved thunderstorms, would go out in the downpours, spread his arms, and spin... until Edge pulled him inside by the hood of his sweatshirt, muttering about the stink of wet scales.

When he shifted, the dragon's scales were like velvet.

He snored when he was overtired.  

He cried like a babybones and would jump onto any surface to escape spiders, would yell himself hoarse until Edge made an appearance to remove said foe.

He would fight like a caged animal if he felt cornered, or if he felt like Edge was in a  _situation_.

That night Edge learned something else.

He was an absolute force of nature when anything he considered  _his_ was in jeapordy.  Yet, despite this, and despite the godlen magic framing his unbroken socket, he managed to not break the door down.

Small favors, Edge supposed.

It wasn't as if the demon heard the slamming door, regardless.  He had slumped forward, blunted phalange tips digging frantically into his coronal suture, to the sensitive bone around his horns.

Twist had frozen before the door knob even impacted the wall, out of his depth as much as Edge was.  

Their demon had a look of complete despair and devestation, was throwing out such terrifyingly powerful emotions scarce limited to desolation and isolation - the dragon hissed and thrashed in its turmoil, worried about his newest treasure.

The welling of marrow from the sobbing demon's skull broke Edge from his stunned silence, and praying to the Angel teh other wouldn't panic further, he carefully reached forward and pulled his splayed hands away.

* * *

He didn't fight the hands against his own.

He was just so... very... tired.

Tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of being alone, tired of being.

He let his eyelights fade, and slumped, just wanting it to all stop.

* * *

Edge, Twist and the dragon realized at the same moment the trouble they were in.  Their demon had just... just  _stopped_.  Stopped crying, stopped fighting - even the waves of emotions coming from him, just stopped.  

This boded poorly.

_Shit_. 

Edge  _knew_ he was out of his depth.

He knew, remembered, losing himself after his Making, and knew,  _remembered_ , how long it had taken him to find himself, something to live for... something that had manifested itself in the form of a skinny skeleton with a lizard leeching cohabitating his brain pan and who had a penchant for being a dumbass.  But he remembered how long, but didn't at the same time... the lonely months hiding in the mill, avoiding anything,  _anyone_ who he could have potentially hurt... how the  _stars_ was he going to be able to help someone this broken?  Could he?  Could... could they?

A glance at Twist showed that he was having a very similar conversation with himself, with his dragon?  His single eyelight was a prick of light, unwavering as his jaw twitched with the pressure he was putting on it.

Fuck it  _all_.

He was no good at this.  Never had been.

He was still holding one of the other's hands, he realized, absently grazing a thumb over the fragile carpals.  He shifted closer so the other was flush to his side, letting the blanket pubble across both of their laps.  Contact, bone-to-bone and otherwise, had seemed to help steady the demon earlier... it had to be worth another shot.  An unsteady arm wrapped around the demon's shoulders, pulling him closer, letting his head settle heavily on his broader shoulder.

He snapped his phalanges on his free hand, snatching Twist's attention away from his internal dialogue.  "Get over here," Edge murmured, gesturing to the bed's other side.  "I... I have an idea that  _might_ work."

* * *

The dragon snarled at Edge's snap, enraged at how impudent ~~his hoard~~ the skeleton could be.  With ~~his newest addition~~ the other so... so  _damaged_ , he was at a level of upset he'd only felt once before, when his first hoard -

NO.

NEVER E V E R AGAIN.

Twist grabbed the reins at that moment, crawling up the bed and settling, pulling the demon's other hand into his own, duplicating Edge's motions.

The dragon, about to go on the warpath, froze in his mind, its single golden eye bright.  Magic welled up, and suddenly the dragon was crying.  He was  _touching_ what was his.   _His_ precious treasure, his smooth, smooth bone, his poor,  _cherished_ skeleton, motionless in his arms, yet still there.  

The lizard settled, its warm purring filling Twist's mind.

"Will it 'elp 'im?" he matched the vampire's volume, looking over their demon's bowed skull.

Edge visibly fought with himself for a moment.  "He... reacted poorly, very poorly, earlier, to intent being pushed at him.  It was the barely there, but he went into something just short of convulsions.  With this... this episode... I think, if we both push  _everything_ we can at him, simultaneously, it might be enough to break him from the hallucinations he's in long enough for him to start healing."

Twist considered.  With the dragon lending its own push to the projection of intent, along with Edge's... that was an awful lot of raw magic to throw at someone.  The dragon alone had been able to soothe his worst nightmares and Edge's doubts about everything from his Making to his random inability to make himself eat... or feed.  Low-level projecting was just something skeletons  _did_ for each other, on familial and close-friend levels, and the pair had often just spent nights relaxing together, peace and calm filling the otherwise cold halls of the lodge.  

That was just so very much magic...

"That much?"

Edge signed and nodded, moving his hand from the still hand to run up the arm bones in an attempt to chafe some heat into the cooling bones.  "It... it should work?"

Edge seldom sounded uncertain.

The dragon glared, still purring to itself.

Twist humored his lizard.  "But?"

"We... it's possible we might lose him if he rejects it.  There's no way he can continue to sustain episodes like this; its a small miracle that he had enough magic to keep his bones together."  Edge continued his careful petting as he tried to hide the shaking of his hand.  "We're going to lose him if we do nothing."  He wasn't sure why he had this strange desire to see the other well, but he suspected it was somehow Twist's fault.  It usually was.

Twist stopped his ministrations over the demon's hand, socket going wide.  His dragon... his dragon slung a wing over its eyes, whining in desperation.  His jaw clenched again, teeth grinding with the force.  Losing... losing part of his hoard,  _any_ part of his hoard, no matter how new it was, was  _completely un-fucking-cceptable._  

The cracking around his empty socket burned with sympathy pains from the last time he had failed to protect what was his.

He couldn't do that again.

The dragon couldn't, wouldn't let him.  

He couldn't let himself.

"Haveta try," he squeezed the lax hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way, getting the lack of response he expected, yet dreaded.  "How do ya wanna do this?"

Edge re-grasped the hand on his side.  "Keep the bone-on-bone contact.  Not to be trite, but  _happy_ thoughts.  Keep your dragon's grabby paws off for now; it'll do more harm than good."  Edge drew a deep breath he didn't need.  

Twist cracked his cervicals, rolling his skull from side to side to loosen the tightness.  "Count of three?"

"Count of three.   _On_ three.  Ready?"

"Yep.  One."

"Two."

Together.  " _Three_."

* * *

Partner magic, conjoined magic, was always something prickly.  It required not only the magic itself to be compatible, but the personalities of the contributors to be balanced.  None of the donors could overpower another, else the meld would break and there would be backlash.  The same was true with the projections based on  _intent_.  The emotions the intent based on had to be compatible, not try to overpower any facet, for it to work.

Perfectly melded magic, of any sort, was a deeply personal experience as it intrinsically linked its hosts.  

This was about as perfect as it could get.

Edge's projecting started a split second before Twist's, but their intent was so close to the same it might well have been one.  Both sets of eyelights had dimmed as they concentrated on moderating just how much they pushed toward the slender form.

_Safety / security / peace / comfort / this is home / not alone / S A F E_ hit the still demon hard enough to cause him to shudder violently once, then start trembling.

Twist bit back a whine; it _wasn't_ working.  

Then the dragon threw in.

The magic in the room was visible, gold motes dancing with crimson.  They whirled on the air currents, but drew, like pulled by magnets, to the exposed bones of their demon, falling to settle there.

His eyelights snapped into existence, still hazy, but more aware than they had been earlier.  His quiet whimper was choked off as the dragon pushed a little more  _/ S A F E T Y /_ into the mix, his gaze flickering between the pair sandwiching him.  

* * *

He was so confused.  

Who were these two skeletons that  _felt_ like more?  Why did they care about him?  Did they know who he was?

He didn't think so; the shorter of the two seemed too stiff, too controlled.  The taller, the one with the cracked socket,  _looked_ terrifying, but was projecting so  _nicely_.

He could feel their intent clearly, struggling with it, with himself.  He  _wanted_ what they were offering, stars how he wanted it.  But... but it was probably a trick again, right?  This was just Jerry looking for new ways to use him for entertainment... It had to be...  _right_?

The pulse of  _/ S A F E T Y /_ that pushed against his bone finally broke his will.  Intent like that, Jerry had never been able to fake that.  It was too hard, unless you were completely psychotic, to fake emotions that intense.  Jerry had tried, so many times, but while he was many things, truly psychotic wasn't one of them.  Businessman, yes.  Sick bastard?  Certainly.  But he had no mental illness to use to write off the insanity of his actions.

He shivered, too tired and drained to cry again.  Gentle phalanges stroked against his coronal suture, more keeping contact on his bare humeri.  It felt so... so  _good_ to be touched, and have nothing expected in return, to have nothing  _demanded_.  He drew a faltering breath, and let what they offered crash over him like a wave.

* * *

They could tell when their demon let them in.  His eyelights went out completely, jaw slipping partly open, drool puddling behind his teeth.  The shivers continued, but less intense, less frequent.

He huffed out a sound - not a whimper or a whine - but otherwise Twist wasn't sure what to place it as.  Edge shook his head, not sure either, as the other did it again, then again, before it settled into a barely audible, rattling sound.

The dragon was the first to figure out what it was, wings beating the air in delight.

Their skeleton was  _purring_.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The corner in terms of my abuse of our poor little demon has finally been turned, I promise. I just can't bring myself to beat up on Rus any more (at least in this).
> 
> Honestly, I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter. *ponders*


	10. Recovery I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the recovery begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read first. Then notes. It is the way of things.

They fell asleep like that - a clutter of bones and blankets.  Twist and Edge kept their projections up, but reduced the intensity before they sucumbed to their own exhaustion.

The dragon did likewise, but didn't sleep.

The dragon kept watch, more content and relaxed, more at one with Twist, than it had been in a very long time.

* * *

Edge woke up with a crick in his cervicals and a shoulder damp with drool.

Strike that.  A shoulder and... an ankle?  Stars damn it Twist.

He sighed and shifted carefully.

Twist was in his normal sleeping position, a sprawl, limbs akimbo and  _draped_.  How a skeleton could take up that much space was one of the great wonders of the universe, right up there with how a skeleton could look so  _boneless_.

His skull had somehow gotten itself to the foot of the bed, along with the vast majority of their bedding, and he was using both the blankets and Edge's long bones as a pillow.  A manifested tongue dangled from his parted teeth, the gold construct looking downright offensive.  Edge growled at its proximity to his toes, and at Twist's own toes, perilously close to his eye sockets.  His snores were interspersed with a low rumbling purr, still pushing out  _/ safety /_   _comfort /._

Given how it was affecting himself, it was no wonder their demon was out like a light.

The third occupant of the bed was most definitely out of the count, still purring in his choppy, broken way.  The tension was gone from his posture, his skull nestled into the crook of Edge's scapula.  

Tiny beads of rust-colored magic dotted his otherwise smooth brow.

Freeing his hand from beneath Twist's leg, he brushed phalange-tips across the demon's skull, not liking the heat that was radiating from the bone.  A fever was to be expected, he supposed, given the stress the other had been under, but it was still just another complication stacked against the demon.  

He ran his phalanges up further, stroking at the bone around the base of his horns.  Like the rest of the demon's bones, it was a dull off-white, not the pearlescent of healthy bone, but the horns themselves seemed normal?  He supposed, anyway.  Horns weren't precisely his forte.  

They weren't large, roughly as wide as his wrist at their base, and curved and tapered gently towards the crown of his skull.  They were a darker gray than the rest of his bone, smoother, having a texture similar to that of his tail.  

They were apparently sensitive. 

At first contact his purring stuttered, then resumed, softer.  A whine caught in the back of his throat, and Edge yanked his hand away, clumsily cursing himself.  Of course their  _sex_ demon would have sensitivity with gentle touching.  

That was the last thing he was prepared to deal with.  He'd have to do some more research first.

He shifted again, acknowledging with a tilt of his head Twist's eyelight peering up at him from the foot of the bed.  The dragon stretched languidly, flexing his toes, then moving his foot in an attempt to brush against Edge's skull.

"Do  _not_ , under any circumstances, pet me with your  _feet_ Twisted."

He grinned.  "Not one of yer things, huh sweetheart'?"

Edge swatted at the offending appendage, still taking care to keep his emotions in check.  " _Feet_ are not, nor have ever been, one of my fetishes, lizard.  You'd do well to remember that."  He glared at the offending toe bones.

Twist, using some bit of magic that  _should_ have been impossible, used his middle toe to flip Edge off.  "How's 'e doin'?" 

"Feverish.  Low on magic.  We need to get some more food into him, definitely some calcium.  His bones are brittle and any breaks would be a major setback."

With a languid stretch, the taller skeleton rolled off the bed, taking most of the bedding with him.  Suppressing the desire to sign in exasperation, he peered over the edge, taking care to not shift the drooling demon.  Twist looked... 

Twist looked more relaxed than he had in a long while.  The tension around his sockets, still there, was not nearly as pronounced as it had been.  There was a spark to his eyelight, a twinkle, one that suggested headaches in Edge's future.  He caught the look he was being given and gave a guileless smile in return, and, picking himself free of his woolen prison, hauled himself to his feet and settled on the bedside.  He cocked a bonebrow at the other in unspoken question, and in that moment, Edge wondered when he had become so fluent in Twist-ese.  

"Listen here lizard.  You  _will_ behave and abide by your promise.  No undue  _influencing_ allowed.  That being said," Edge glanced down at the skull half-buried in his shoulder, "I think it would be wise to continue as we are for a while, at least until we've gotten him fully stabilized."  He brushed a stray bead of orange sweat from the heated bone, wiping it away on the sheet.  

Looking like a babybones that had just been handed a bag of candy, Twist  _beamed_.  "I- I get to stay wit' 'im?"  If his smile got any wider, it would qualify as a light-source.  

"Yes.   _If_ you behave.  And if you know anything about his type of demon, you should feel free to share it."

* * *

 

That had lead to one of the most uncomfortable discussions Edge could recall  _ever_ having.  Twist had gone... serious, thoughtful, and he strongly suspected that the dragon was having a conversation with him at the same time.  A serious, thoughtful,  _coherent_ Twist?  They had continued into a rational discussion on how to deal with their demon's inevitable withdrawal and recovery period, and Twist... or his dragon? had provided additional, surprising insight.

Edge didn't know how to respond to this, this _rational_  Twist, and instead fled to the kitchen, claiming he needed to mix up another batch of soup.  

Twist had shrugged and taken the warm spot vacated by the vampire.  Bone-on-bone contact, Edge had impressed up on him, so he had pulled their still out-for-the-count demon up and snaked an arm under his bony (heh) shoulders.  His phalange tips stroked absently against the other's bare sternum, still pushing intent.

Not too much though.  He completely believed that Edge would leave ~~try to~~ and ~~probably~~ take the demon with him if he didn't play by the rules.  That was something ~~the dragon~~ he couldn't even consider,  _refused_ to consider.  Sure, he could just follow them around... he could just let the dragon take over, take a nice flight, wind through his scales and all that.. but that was  _effort_.  All he had to do was behave, just for a little while, and they'd be  _together_.  

His ~~hoard~~ friends, all where he could keep ~~it~~ them safe.

Totally worth.

His purring started unconsciously at the thought, and he glanced down to see the demon's eyelights slowly focusing into defined points.  The other's own purring stuttered off, a momentary look of fear crossing his face before going neutral.  

Oh no no no.  His demon needed to stay calm and relaxed.  He cranked up his  _/ safety / home / comfort/,_ smothering his smile as he pushed it through his phalanges straight into the other's sternum.  That wasn't breaking the rules, was it?  

The dragon assured him that it wasn't.

The dragon wouldn't lie to him.

He snuggled down a bit on the pillows, bringing his free arm around to tilt the demon's chin up.  

Not responding to the flinch, while the dragon's rage mounted, was one of the harder things he'd ever had to do.  The dragon pushed a bit of its own magic into the intent, muttering to itself.  

* * *

 

The demon's eyelights rolled up and he shivered as the intent hit him.  It was like the wave that had hit him earlier, only not nearly as strong.  One less contributor?  

He couldn't see the other skeleton, so that had to be it.  

The light touches on his sternum were strangely soothing, not unwelcome for once.  His bones felt so hot, and for once he didn't think it was a drug-induced heat or the like.  The sweat beading on his brow did nothing to cool it, nor did anything to soothe the ache that seemed to come from every joint.  

At least he could see now, which was a huge step from... earlier?  His sense of time was shot.  The gaps in his memory were worrisome.  Why could he only remember  _bad_?  Was there nothing else?

The whine escaped his throat before he could stop it.

The purring above him picked up intensity, as did the push of  _/ safety /_ into him.  He latched onto that.  Fuck.  What else did he have to lose?  

He hauled a shaky hand up and made a halting effort to grab the hand atop his sternum.  He missed, his trembling sending his aim off.  The other hand turned over and carefully grasped his phalanges, cupping them.  The other hand... the phalanges were longer than his own, the bone whiter, cleaner, far less marred.  He focused on it, mapping out the divots in both sets of bone, memorizing the first hand in memory that  _hadn't_ hurt him.  

Well, the other skeleton hadn't either, but he hadn't been able to see at that point...

Fuck his thought process was blown to hell.

Focusing on one small thing at a time was apparently the extent of his ability currently.

He jerked, realizing for the first time that there was... an arm? around him, tucking him into the other's side.  Oh.  The skeleton above him had been talking to him, or at least  _at_ him.  

He croaked out what he hoped was an inquisitive sound, wincing at the burn in his throat still.  

"That answers that question then, huh darling?" the other chuckled down at him, reaching for the seemingly ever-present glass of water on the nightstand.  

He drank greedily, the cool water offering some relief to the fever-heat, whining when the other regulated how much he took at a time.  Another chuckle.

"Not too much atta time, now.  Might make ya sicker."  The glass was returned to its previous place, and the hand that had been holding it stroked across his frontal bone, catching lightly at the coronal suture.  It was so blessedly  _cool_ he pushed into it, the relief worth the expenditure of energy.  Now that the other mentioned it, he did feel a bit queasy, but it was hard to focus on just that when everything was uncomfortable.  

The other...  _giggled_?  It wasn't a sound he was familiar with, and he shifted, needing to focus on the face to make sure he hadn't done something wrong.  He didn't know if he could take it if the safety promised was taken away and if he was sent back or hurt again or -

_/ SAFE / OURS / PEACE /_

He gasped at the intensity of it, but then... it was gone, gone back to the previously soothing level.  

He knew his eyes were wide, and he stared at the other.

* * *

 

As soon as their demon's breath hitched, Twist pushed  _just_ enough for  _just_ long enough to settle him.  Edge couldn't call him for reneging on the promise if it was only for the other's benefit, right?  Another panic attack wasn't going to help anything, so clearly, he had done nothing wrong.  

The dragon crooned its pleasure at the continued proximity.  

He smiled at the sockets staring at him, trying his best to make it non-threatening.  " 'm Twist, by th' way.  Edge's in th' kitchen, makin' some more soup."

Eyelights perked back up at that.  Good.  They needed to get some nutritious food into the demon to try to offset some of the abuse to his bones, and it would be much easier if he was inclined to voluntarily eat.  "Anythin' ya specifically like or don't darling?  Edge'll take requests fer ya."

The demon flinched again, but in more of a resigned way.  His jaw tensed, teeth clenched, before he loosened it and worked it soundlessly for a moment.  "Nothin' '" he croaked, his nasal bridge flushed both from the fever and... embarrassment?  Was that even something he was still capable of feeling?

The dragon clapped its claws in delight, and Twist had to fight to not smile, not wanting the wrong idea to be conveyed.  "Nothin', no requests, or nothin', you don't like?  Take yer time, sweetness."  He tugged up the tangle of blankets and soothed them out the best he could without disturbing the other's position, still stroking their demon's sternum.  

The silence stretched, and he felt the other slump against him, energy apparently gone.  Eye sockets began to droop, and a face pressed into the junction of his chest and shoulder, pressing into the fabric draped there.  Twist thought he had lost the other to sleep again, settling the hand he had been holding on top of the blankets.  Instead, he cupped the other's parietal bone and ran a thumb over the crown of his skull, his purr returning.  

He almost missed the whispered "Don' like broc'li," from the other before his breath leveled out to soft snores.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? Good. Sit tight, because there be more fluff incoming. Well, I won't lie. There's at least 3 more instances of Rus-abuse, but with enough fluff to offset it. Maybe. 
> 
> Written disjointedly on semi-purpose? This was probably the hardest chapter I've written, probably because there was no Rus-abuse idk.


	11. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the same, but... well, _more_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like putting this here just to make y'all wonder.
> 
> There's some SOUL-y stuff here, so if it squicks you out, go elsewhere I guess.

The next three days followed a similar pattern, and Edge should have  _known_ that falling into a routine was a bad idea.  

Either he or Twist was constantly with their demon, pouring soup into him, or talking to him, or soothing him when his tremors got to be painful, or just being there when he woke up, shivering and gasping from some unknown nightmare.  His fever remained steady, and his periods of lucidity remained as fleeting as moonlight.  The only things of positive note was the healing of his injuries and his increased magic reserves, evidenced by the brightening of his eyelights.  He still wasn't conversational, content generally with leaning into soft touches and warmth.  Most of his communication was non-verbal, but Edge suspected that was just due to a sore throat than anything else.  Ice chips seemed to help, and his last period of consciousness had him cautiously asking questions about where he was.

Edge had answered in broad, general terms, not wanting to stress the other out, not wanting to... well, he made it a point to not lie to himself.  He didn't want to get attached.  Who knew if the demon was going to stay, going to go - or if, when he was recovered, was actually mentally  _there_ enough to form an attachment with?  Cruel, perhaps, to both the demon and himself, but he had spent too many years isolated to readily form any sort of attachment.

Except with Twist.  Twist was a damned leach.

But, all in all?  Edge was satisfied with their demon's progress... or at least satisfied enough that he gave in to his own biological (vampiroligical?) cravings and pulled Twist from the guest room late on the third night.  He figured it was about time to see if they could start weening the demon off their soothing projections, given they'd been doing it non-stop.

It was so late it was really early, but that didn't particularly bother either of them.  Their demon had been asleep, mostly peacefully, for a handful of hours, and looked like he would successfully sleep through the night for the first time, fever aside.  That had really been his deciding factor for letting Twist know his... his  _services_... were required.

Stars, he  _hated_ being dependent on the dragon.  On principle alone, it was a weakness, and given Twist's lack of total sanity...

He snorted, the sound rasping through his nasal aperture as Twist settled onto the couch, his long bones folded underneath him.  How a seven-foot-tall skeleton could fold himself up into a space that small was a physics-breaking bit of magic he'd never quite figured out himself, but as long as it was comfortable for him?  It was what it was.  

Even if it gave him a sympathetic leg cramp.

He gave the other the _look_ with a raised bone-brow, and sat himself on the far side of the couch, not quite touching, arms folded over his chest in what he at least hoped was a self-confident manner.  

Twist knew better.  The dragon knew better.  They were willing to let their skeleton think he had his control though.  Anything that would make their hoard more amenable was acceptable.  Picking and choosing the battles, the dragon called it.  

Twist and the dragon had held a conversation earlier, as they cuddled with their demon.  Or... vaguely held a conversation?  It had been disjointed, even by his standards.  When he had his ~~last hoard~~ ~~(NO DON'T GO DOWN THAT PATH)~~   _family_ , the dragon had slept, had been a  _part_ of him.  He had been... well, he had still been broken, scattered, but  _less_ than he was now, but now, he was becoming more and more the monster he  _had_ been... 

It was like the dragon was the glue holding the bits of himself together after the time before.  

That had given him a moment of SOUL-stopping terror, earlier.  Thankfully, Edge hadn't noticed, and the slumbering demon hadn't noticed the stutter in his projections of intent.  He  _needed_ the dragon to talk to, to  _be_ there, to just  _be,_ it was the only constant that  _never left him_... 

He had lost his ~~hoard~~ ~~friends~~   _family_ once because he had lost himself, and what if... what if he lost this one, ~~his~~ the two skeletons, because the dragon had left him?

The dragon had snorted at him, reptilian giggles being creepy, even to Twist's mind.  It had assured him that it wasn't really going anywhere, that he was just reverting back to who he had been. 

It had reassured him that it was okay.

It was  _O K A Y_.

Edge shifting yanked his mind back to the present.  The vampire was giving him yet another  _look_ , this one the I-know-you're-harping-on-the-past variant.  He hated that look.  He got it at least three times a week.

"Are you quite done?" Edge groused, arms still folded.  He knew better than to let Twist go too far down his rabbit-hole of self-doubt and the past; it tended to take at least a day to pull him out of his morose snits.  

He smiled weakly back at him, knowing he was caught, and shrugged.  "Sure, sweetheart.  Didn't mean ta put ya out or anythin'."  He winked lazily, enjoying the way magic flushed lightly across Edge's high cheekbones.  "Ya still hungry?"

The vampire didn't dignify that with a response, instead huffing.  He was  _not_ acting like a petulant child.  He  _wasn't_ , stars damn it.  He would  _not_ dignify the prick with a response, instead just turning up the irritation on his face.  

Twist grinned.

"'s alright, darlin'.  If yer hungry, 't can be dinner whenever ya want."  With a practiced  _twist_ (heh) of his wrist, his SOUL appeared in the air before his sternum, nearly  _dripping_ with magic overflow.  The organ pulsed, a pure, golden glow illuminating both Twist's dark sweater and the surrounding air.  

Edge hated it.

He hated that he  _needed_ it.

He hated that his tongue manifested its stars-damned self when his magic sensed  _food_ nearby.  

Fuck his Maker.

Fuck everything about his Maker.

He clenched his sockets shut for a moment, drawing a raspy breath he didn't strictly need, realizing that his hand was already reaching for the SOUL, delicate phalange-tips just short of its surface.  

The resentment he had first felt at the dragon, on their initial meeting, at his realization that he was voluntarily tethering himself to a... monster of questionable morals and sanity - it never went away.  He just learned to swallow his pride.

Twist's smirk said that he knew that already.

The SOUL felt heavy in his hands, and he ran a claw lightly over the surface, considering.  Its internal light was pulsing, but its rythm was altering to match that of his own magic, to make it go down smoother.  He suspected it was something that could simply be attributed to "dragon" but didn't bother asking.  

It wouldn't change anything, not really.

With a final glare at Twist, he cupped the SOUL closer to his own sternum, leaning his head forward to let his fangs graze the same place his claw had just been.  Twist's jerk and stuttered curse was strangely satisfying as he rested his teeth on the surface, letting the stray drops of raw magic press against his tongue.  For a moment, he just let his teeth press against the surface, not breaking it, enjoying Twist's mutters.  He cocked an eyelight up, taking some vindictive pleasure at the other digging his claws into the arm of the couch, his own eyelight blown wide.  A fraction more pressure had Twist's spine bowing, his own tongue manifested and drool visible out of the corner of his mandible.

Serves the bugger right.

Deciding to stop teasing his own self, Edge bit down as if into an apple, his top fangs sinking into the swirling surface.  Warm, raw magic squirted out across his tongue and down his throat, and he gave a pleased grunt at the texture.  Twist moaned as the vampire ran his tongue around where his teeth were puncturing, and it took real presence of mind to not smirk with his mouth full.

He swallowed once, twice,  _more_ , the plentiful magic coming with little effort on his part.  

It was... strangely pleasant, in its own strange way.

* * *

Sockets snapped open into dim light light cast from the hallway, beads of magic across his skull.

His breath hitched in his chest, his SOUL  _burned_.  Pulling a hand up to his sternum, he tried to claw it desperately, to scratch it, to sooth it, to  _anything oh stars I T H U R T._

His tail was beating a tattoo under the blankets, against his leg, but he barely registered the motion.  

Where was he?  Oh sweet Angel, why did it hurt? 

The burning on his sternum did little to bring him back, the pain merging in his mind to one, horrible mass that tried to drag him back.  His unoccupied hand, trapped beneath the blanket, desperately sought its freedom, but was too tangled in the sheets.  He choked, then again, trying to force out words to call for help.  The other skeletons... they'd... they'd left him?  

He whined back in his throat, panic at his hand being trapped sending new sparks of terror through him.  Somewhere, logically, the back of his mind told him this was a fever dream, or a withdrawal symptom, but the pain was too  _real_ , too in the  _now_ , for that tiny voice to be heard over his own whimpers.  He tried to form words again, his breath coming so fast it whistled between his teeth.  Tears blinded him as he sobbed, head thrashing among the pillows.

When he had been at Jerry's  _establishment_ , a voice in his head had often goaded him.  An evil, spiteful voice, it had told him how he had  _deserved_ what Jerry was doing, that he  _deserved_ to not remember, that no one wanted him, that no one ever would, not when Jerry had left his marks on his mind, his bones, his SOUL.  He had thought he had freed himself of that voice after giving up, after doing what it had wanted, but now... 

Now it tried to make a comeback.  

_No one is coming_ , it told him in a voice that sounded so familiar but yet he couldn't place.   _Just like before, when N O O N E C A M E_.

It was the voice that broke the damn.  The voice that he  _knew_ , but didn't, that he felt like he should hate himself even  _more_ for not knowing where to place it from _._

His magic spasmed all at once, and he found himself in a fetal ball.  He could  _feel_ his bones vibrating unpleasantly as his magic spasmed, and as black spots began to saturate his vision, he  _keened_.

* * *

Edge would never be able to tell exactly how fast they had moved, how fast Twist's SOUL had found itself back in the safety of his chest, but the pair had gone from the couch to the guest bedroom in moments, as soon as the desperate, strangled sob broke the otherwise peaceful silence.  

Their demon was in the throes of a full seizure, his body trembling at the force of the spasms through his bones, eyelights blown and flickering rapidly, but unfocused.  

"Grab his legs so he doesn't hurt himself again!" he demanded, shoving the motionless dragon as he went for the upper body.  Spent magic, marrow, blood and tears soiled the sheets, and he hissed a curse.  A thumb jammed into the corner of his mandible loosened the demon's jaw enough that it freed his bleeding tongue, but did little to settle the rest of his violent shaking.  Edge forced him onto his side, unwilling to hurt him again by restraining his motions, but not wanting to see if he could choke.

Twist pulled the bedding that was tying the convulsing skeleton down away, landing cross-ways across flailing long-bones.  The dragon snapped its jaw angrily, demanding angrily that something,  _anything_ be done to fix this.  

It went on for a lifetime, time only counted by the number of SOUL beats and whimpers.  

One more violent jerk sent both flying off the bed, rusty-orange magic flickering down the demon's entire length before he tensed one final time, then went still.  

Twist grunted as he got an arm underneath himself, rubbing the back of his skull from where it impacted the wall on his unplanned flight.  Edge make likewise grumpy sounds as he hauled himself to his feet, then stopped, eyelights wide.

"Wha's wrong, darli- oh."

The pair of skeletons stared for a long moment.

"He has... he has-"

" _Wings?"_

_"Wings!"_

The dragon purred its contentment as it settled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than I wanted, but having problems focusing today. Yeah. MUCH shorter than I wanted. Meh.
> 
> Also no, don't hold anyone having a seizure down unless they're a magical skeleton monster. Then its ok.


	12. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is introspective. Twist is Twist. Edge naps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-specific mention of the demise of Jerry (let's be fair, no one likes Jerry).

They were, most certainly,  _wings_.

Twist's single eyelight  _shimmered_ as the dragon stirred, its interest  _very_ much piqued.  Edge's mandible was hanging.

Aforementioned demon stayed sprawled belly-down, prone, on the bed, wings seeming to amplify his trembling.

They, the wings, weren't very large, shorter than their demon's arms.  The entire bone structure, or what would be bone structure, humerus to terminal phalanx, looked solid enough, like true bone, but was clearly an entirely magical construct.  Rust-orange magic discolored the otherwise dark constructs.  The joints that connected to his shoulder blades visibly  _glowed_ , his magic coloring the surrounding air.  There were no feathers - a sheet of magic "skin" stretched between the metacarpals.  It was near translucent, like a faint gossamer hung between the bone.  The free edges of the magic looked... frayed.

Twist wanted to  _ ~~possess~~ ~~HAVE~~  _touch so  _badly_.  

The dragon was more concerned more with just how functional the wings were, eager to have a flying companion.

Edge was far too keyed into Twist for his own taste.  He glared at the other as he brushed dust from the seat of his pants and cautiously re-approached the bed.  There was no way he'd get any semblance of help from the idiot when he had  _that_ look on his face.

The demon was wheezing softly, gasping like the proverbial fish out of water.  His eyelights had guttered out at some point during his... episode... and his entire, lanky form was still wracked with full-body tremors.  His face was pressed into the mattress, the sheets absorbing the tears still beading at his sockets.  

He looked... uncomfortable at best.  He himself had never had a seizure or anything of the sort, and this demonstration was thoroughly off-putting.   _Note to self.  No addictions that involve convulsions during detox.  Check._

With a hesitation he'd deny if ever called on it, his palm made contact with the other's sweat-damp skull.  The other made no sign of recognition, sockets dark.  

Focusing on steadying his still-racing SOUL, Edge closed his own sockets.  Methodically, he gathered his magic and shrunk his concentration to a single emotion.  With a heavy-handedness more characteristic of Twist, he pushed  _/ S A F E T Y /_ into their demon.  The last thing they needed was a delirious,  _flying_ demon in the mansion.

Twist would love the chaos, but Edge was the one who would be cleaning up after a fiasco like that.

A single SOUL-beat passed and a  _crack_ had his sockets back open.  A faint after-image was all that was left of the wings as the magic vanished into the ether that dispelled magic went to.  Some of the tension likewise left the demon, and he visibly slumped further into the mattress, though the trembling continued.

Had he been so hard up after his Making?  He had spent so much time  _not_ thinking of that period that now, when he considered calling it forth, it slipped through his phalanges like beach sand.  

The sudden pressure of a hand on his shoulder nearly made him fall off the bed again, though his projection stayed true.  

Twist gave him a crooked smile, though he had to had been in some pain.  That one crack specifically, the one that curved from the cracks around his broken socket back and down to the jaw, was new, probably a result of the impact with the wall.  Then again, he was sometimes convinced the other was numb from the brain case down.

He was laden with new bedding and a thick quilt, which he dumped unceremoniously on the chair and moved to far side of their demon.  He set his hand on the near humerus and slit his socket, letting his SOUL settle.  He, and his dragon, could  _feel_ Edge's intent pulsing through the prone skeleton, and in a few moments their SOULs, and magic, were in sync.  Seemlessly, he took over pushing  _/ S A F E T Y /_ into the limp form, perhaps even harder than Edge's own projections were, and pulled him into his arms.  A limp skull settled against his clavicle, long arms folded over his midsection, and long legs hanging loosely.  He was still  _very_ much underweight, though the bones themselves had started taking on a healthier tone now that their magic wasn't restricted.  

Edge was up, stripping the linens and replacing them in a brutally efficient manner, no words being spoken.

They didn't need to be.

* * *

It was the sudden pulse of fear against his humming magic that had Twist glance down at his newest ~~treasure~~ housemate.  Edge had gone to rest hours earlier, the normal post-feeding lethargy finally hitting after the adrenaline crash.  He had threatened Twist about behaving quite vigorously before he had stepped out, following the threats with an admonishment to wake him up if  _anything_ happened.

The dragon had been agitated, hissing angrily about not being able to ~~help~~ ~~fix~~   _heal_ its ~~treasure~~ skeleton friend.  In the interim, Twist had let it pout as he kept stroking the demon's skull.  Finally,  _finally!_ the lizard had relented, slinking back into the dark recesses where it slept.  

He shifted fractionally, his eyelight meeting the hazy, rusty orange one struggling to get himself seated, to focus on his surroundings.  The demon flinched and flicked his gaze away as soon as he realized that not only was Twist there, but that he had his full attention.

"'ey now, sweetheart.  No hidin'," he amped up his projections a bit more as he murmured at the other.  "Yer all right, yeah?  Ain't goin' hurt ya."  He took shameless advantage of the demon's disorientation to move his hand from his scapula  to directly onto his sternum, over his SOUL, and  _pushed_.

It wasn't breaking his promise to Edge.  It wasn't.  He was only doing this to  _help_.  That made it ok.

The demon's breath stuttered, his sockets sinking partway closed, and began purring softly.

It felt so... very...  _safe_.  The demon huffed, his purrs vibrating straight down to his toes and his gently thumping tail.  He... he hadn't felt this way in  _years._   He was  _warm_ ,  _safe_ , he was  _fed_... the two strange skeletons hadn't even beaten him when he lost control of his magic and... Oh stars.  He had  _hit_ them... with... with his  _wings_... Oh  _Angel_ -

His eyes snapped back open, SOUL pulsing uncomfortably fast.  His panicked whine was cut off before it ever began when a fierce, almost brutal, wave of  _/P E A C E_ / coursed through him like a pulse of electricity.

"Nah, darlin'.  's fine, ya know?  We ain't mad at'cha.  Fact is, yer wings, well... they're pretty amazin'."

The skeleton beside him continue rambling about magic construct formation, aerodynamics, weight ratios and a slew of other technical things, leaving the demon's jaw hanging.

Talking still was difficult, not quite second nature again, so finding the will to speak normally was  _hard_ , but the sheer amazement he felt helped to negate that.  "Y-you don't mind?" he choked out in a whisper, phalanges digging into his ulna under the blanket.

Twist caught the motion, his dragon stirring only briefly as he told the lizard that he'd deal with it.

A strong hand grabbed his through the fabric and his purr cut off entirely, sockets wide.  

"Don' do that, darlin'.  Ya ain't done nothin' wrong."  The other carefully pulled both his arms free of the blanket and checked them both, running his own phalange-tip over the clawed gouges in his too-slender ulna.  There was no marrow seeping out, but it was a near thing.  Smoothing the quilt back down, he settled the demon's limbs back on top of them.

"I h-haven't?"

In that moment, Twist wished for a good many things.  He wished that Jerry could meet his claws again.  He wished that he could dust him, take the dust and mix it with glue to bring him back, and repeat the process, he wished Edge would stop making peas and that the store would stop trying to sell him toothpaste to clean his bones with, but he wished, more than he'd ever wished for anything before, ~~even in the Before with his first hoard,~~ that he could take the forlorn, broken demon in front of him and  _fix_ him.

 Oh stars he had fucked up again, hadn't he?  First he'd hit the two skeletons, now this and there was no way they'd let this go and they were going to punish him like... like  _Jerry_ used to and oh stars-

_/ S A F E T Y / P E A C E / C O M F O R T /_

He felt himself go completely slack at the same time he felt the skeletal hands on him, but couldn't muster enough energy to fight.  A moment later, and the skeleton... Twist? was beside him, tucking his limp self against sturdy frame.  He was feeling so disjointed again, but the sheer intensity of the projections were starting to wear his terror down.  You couldn't fake those emotions, if you could, Jerry would have done it long ago.  

His purring started up again as he mashed his face into the scratchy sweater the other was wearing, trying to choke back tears and failing.  "'m sorry," he whimpered, his emotions in a giant tangle that  _hurt_.  

Twist stroked up his demon's vertebrae, focusing on the notches between, letting the other cry.  "Let it out, darlin'.  Neither of us'll judge ya fer anythin'."

"D-didn't mean to hurt you," came the whisper after a few long moments and a hiccup. 

"We know ya didn't, 's fine.  We all have our crosses, yeah?"

The demon nodded weakly, turning enough so that his face wasn't completely buried in fabric.  He squinted at the sudden light in his eyes, his newly exposed bones streaked with sweat and magic.  

Twist cupped his jaw, running the smooth pad of his thumb bone underneath a socket to wipe the moisture away.  He and the dragon purred at the proximity, the reliance.  He wanted, stars he wanted, to press a kiss to the other's forehead, but he  _knew_ Edge would know and he  _knew_ that if he knew that the knowing would get him cut off because the knowing would imply a breaking of the promise and that Edge would use that knowledge and he  _couldn't_ risk separation from his newest ~~treasure~~ housemate.  Not until the dragon was completely settled.

So he put that on the back burner.  Instead, he pulled something from his bag of tricks to appease the dragon.

Good thing Edge was asleep.

"Know ya didn't like the idea earlier, but we gotta call ya somethin' kiddo," he murmured, ignoring the body tense in his arms.  There were no new tears though, definitely a plus.  "'m not goin'ta ask what they called ya  _there_ , can start fresh?  Find a new name fer ya?"

He had tensed painfully at first mention of a name, but exhaustion was starting to tug him down again.  That, and he was slowly coming to realize, there was no point in crying for a pathetic skeleton that was  _dead_ to anyone that had known him, known  _of_ him.  A voice from Before echoed softly in the back of his mind, in memories that were so old they had no visual attachments, just sounds, feelings.  When he had been first taught how to use his magic, and to form his wings, and to... there was more, he  _knew_ it, but it was gone.  

But he knew,  _knew_ , you couldn't fake emotions or intent.  It had been proven to him dozens, hundreds, more? times.  

These two asked for nothing, but offered him only what he wanted, what he  _needed_.  Stars, he wanted to trust them, instinctively  _knew_ he could trust them, but it  _hurt_ to let go of the suspicions.

He whined in the back of his throat.

Twist's projections kicked back up,  _knowing_ what his newest treasure was fighting with himself over.  

Edge had done the same, in his own way.  It had been more violent, more claws, less tears, but it had been the same process of acceptance.

Long minutes passed, the demon shivering involuntarily as Twist's nimble phalange-tips moved up to his cervical vertebrae, otherwise motionless.  

Finally, there was a whisper that was no way Twist had heard right.  He choked back a cough, shifting to start a rocking motion with the body on his lap, moving both arms to pull him closer.  "Say that again, darlin'?"

"You pick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did actually spend some time researching bat-wing structure, so if there's any biologists reading this I apologize in advance.
> 
> I promise that Rus will actually get a name in the next chapter. I swear.


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Twist has a baby name book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short, mostly because it was stuck in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> @kesinikesana, I blame part of this on you. You know why. Thank you. <3

"Abann." 

"No."

Twist flipped a few pages deeper into the book, dragging a claw-tip down the paper.  "Dadhica?"

Their demon pulled the blanket up to hide his shaking, whether it was out of mirth or terror of Twist's... twistedness (heh), the vampire wasn't sure.  Edge continued to give Twist some pretty fierce looks over the entire naming thing, irritation radiating off of him.  

" _Sprinkling curd_?   _Twisted_ , we are  _not_ naming him for a stars forsaken  _dairy product_."  A spark of red magic threatened to escape from Edge's socket and only a moment of complete concentration forced it back.

If a smile could be  _benevolent_ , Twist had managed it.  Demon on one side, vampire on the other, both in his ~~grasp~~ ~~reach~~  arms and neither trying to ~~escape~~ get out of his reach.  

The dragon was barely a whisper now, settling in, maybe permanently?  

That pleased him more.

Oh.  Edge looked like he wanted an answer, given his crossed arms and pointed glare.

"I like cheese?"

Edge scrubbed his phalanges over his skull, taking a deep breath and counting backwards from ten.  "He's a  _skeleton_ , idiot.  We're named, traditionally, for  _fonts_ , not cow byproducts."  He looked truly affronted.

Their demon choked back a hoarse laugh, covering his lower face with the blanket when the others turned with raised brows.  

Twist grinned.  Edge heaved a put-upon sigh.

"Fine, precious.  Font name t'is.  How 'bout Zazaki?"

The demon pulled the blanket down and stuck his tongue out.

"Ziggy?"

He blew raspberries.

"Cabaret?"

Edge took care to make sure he wasn't in direct contact with their demon before he growled, the sound rattling through his sternum.  " _No_."  It wouldn't do to undo all the soothing emotions they'd been pumping out, better to just make sure there was no contact for a moment.

"Huxley?"

The demon perked up at that one, his eyelights sharpening.  "Like that one," he interjected softly, still looking for all the world like he was expecting to be hit for speaking, let alone expressing himself.

"I'll add it to the 'maybe' list," Edge told him, pulling the notepad from the bedside table, trying hard to ignore the flinch.  The 'maybe' list was substantially shorter than the 'no way, stop being dumb Twist' list.  In fact, the list was mostly just random doodles by Twist, most of obscene situations, assuming that the positions were even anatomically possible.  Was that... was that a  _sea lion?_   Stars above.  He was  _not_ going to ask.

He had his doubts and instead tossed the pad back, face down.

Twist grinned, letting his skull tilt back and rest on the headboard, sockets closed.  His treasures were playing  _so well_ together.  He let that roll through his mind for a few moments, savoring it.

His sockets snapped open and he grinned widely, nearly  _vibrating_ with delight.  

"I gotcha.  Y'all love this."

Another long-suffering sigh.  "Go ahead."

"Smooth Buggagaloo Stretched.  Call 'im 'Stretch' for short."

A moment.  An inhale.

An explosion.

" _TWISTED_.  This is  _serious_!  Can you please, for once, for  _five minutes_ , focus?  That is the most absolutely _ridiculous_ name I've ever heard of.   _Stretch_?  Really?"

The demon choked on his giggles, the blanket going over his head.  If his wheezes were anything to go by, he was, in fact, not only feeling better, but enjoying Edge's consternation.

Edge huffed again, jamming an elbow into Twist's ribs.  "That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard."  He glanced over the other's sternum, to their still-giggling demon.  "Don't encourage his bad behavior."

"How 'bout ya, sweetheart?  Ya got any ideas fer 'im?"  Twist seemed to show no ill-effects from the hit to his ribs, his lazy smile still firmly in place.

The demon peered over as Edge settled back, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed, clearly in deep thought. 

The second passed, and Twist couldn't hold still.  A loose thread on the edge of the quilt found its way between his phalanges, and he worried it from barely there to well over a foot before Edge whacked at his hand, his own eyes still closed.  

He hummed, then slit his socket and peeked at the demon.  

He had his tail in his hands, and was worrying the spaded tip, his own eyes down.  

"Russell.  For Russell Oblique.  And it suits, his magic is rusty orange, so Rus for short."

Twist's purring resonated through his bones and through both of the other skeletons.  He squeezed both of them, then shifted to better watch his newest treasure.  Both treasures, together,  _with him_ , in  _his_ arms.  Life was good.

* * *

He... he had a name?  He had a  _name_.  He  _had a name._   

He couldn't stop the tears, burying his face back into the blanket, his tail tangled up in it.  

"'s perfect," he choked out, his soul feeling a lot lighter than it had for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably will rewrite this since I just kinda threw it down and spell-checked without much other effort being put in. I would literally call this a shitpost, but I spellchecked, which puts it into a slightly higher category. Pooppost. That is the name for this.


	14. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge cooks. Rus gets some character expansion. The dragon makes a reappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short for a reason. See end.

Over the next week, there were good days for Rus, and there were bad days. The bad days were still far outnumbering the good, but he’d at least regained a bit of mobility, though his lingering weakness kept him mostly abed.  His personality, his  _real_ personality, was starting to shine through though - he was more than just the broken skeleton they'd rescued, though Edge and Twist had discussed concerns on his mental state.  He was getting better, but it was going to be a  _long_ road.

Edge kept a careful eye on him, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he kept a stricter one on Twist. He was being strangely clingy, and it was clearly unsettling the demon, which in turn was unsettling him.  The discussion they'd had about Rus' mindset had been strangely... coherent... by Twist standards, and Edge didn't quite feel comfortable trusting that.  

He wasn't entirely sure it was  _Twist_ he had been speaking to.

Regardless, in the meantime, Twist had been keeping Rus occupied more than he himself had.  He just felt... strange... around the demon.  

He snorted to himself.  No, that wasn't it, not if he was being honest with himself.

They weren't sure if the demon was actually going to stay, once he was fully recovered, and he'd lost quite enough of those close to him over the years, thank you kindly.  Getting attached was something he'd have done before he Became, maybe.  Now?  He wasn't sure he wanted to take that first step.  Besides, Twist had been offering himself up as a source of comfort for the other.  

Looking to Edge for comfort? Now that was a new one.

He sighed, flipping through his cookbook. He wanted something that would be easy enough to digest for Rus, but something challenging enough to occupy him. Soup? No, they’d done that too many times already over the last few days. Chicken? As much as he had a craving for fried chicken, he really didn’t feel like spending the time to brine it. If he was going to make it, he would be damned if he wasn’t going to make it properly. Steak? Nothing marinated, and he suspected the flavors would be too strong for Rus still. Twist? He could put a raw and bleeding piece of meat on the table and the idiot would be happy.

He decided to file that away as an option for a busy day.

Another page flipped. Hm. Pastas? Pasta could be the solution. A nice cream sauce could be seasoned individually so Twist could put whatever scandalous nonsense he wanted into his, and he could make sure that Rus’ was bland enough to not upset his still-weak stomach.

Yes, pasta might just well be the solution for the night.

Pulling a stock pot from beneath the counter, he set the base of it on the upper edges of the cookbook’s pages, to hold the book open. It wasn’t anything that would strain his cooking abilities, not in the slightest, but he took a good deal of pride in doing things properly.

Methodically, he set the salted water to boil and measured out the heavy cream, setting the measuring cup aside as he put the carton back in the refigerator.

He almost his name being called over the rattles of the bottles on the door as it snicked closed.

Twist sounded… panicked, his voice tight.

What the hell was the idiot up to now?

Edge swore as he flipped the knob on the stovetop off, a chill wave coursing over his bones. Why did this bode poorly?

* * *

Stars above, he hated, absolutely  _hated_ how weak and tired he was feeling all the time.  Everything still felt so fuzzy and disconnected, and no matter how many times the other two told him that it was normal and it would fade, it didn't help him in the here and now.

it didn't help that he was  _hungry_.  Sweet blessed  _Angel_ he was _hungry_ , but he didn't dare ask the other two.  They'd offered him,  _given_ him so much already, what kind of scum would he be to ask for more?  Especially  _that_?  

It'd be better if he'd just dust.

He rolled onto his side, trying to bury his face into the pillow, trying to muffle his whine.

"Okay over there, darlin'?"

It was the taller of the skeletons, the dragon.  He had been consistently present, consistently  _touching_ him.  They were discrete, and he might have otherwise missed them... if he hadn't just gotten away from Jerry.  If he wasn't so  _hungry_.  Stars he hated himself for wanting more, but he wouldn't,  _couldn't_ ask.

There was a definite sense of possession in the touches, for however calming his projections were.  He didn't want to be scared; they'd done nothing to warrant that response, especially not with their projections, but the sense of being desired scared him more than he could rationalize, more than he could  _allow_ himself to rationalize.

He bit into the pillow to stifle a second whine, willing the tears forming to stop falling.  

He failed, of course, because that's all he really was at this point anyway, right?  

A pressure on his thoracic vertebrae had him jerk, momentarily panicked.  Twist had somehow managed to get onto the bed next to him without him even realizing?  How out of it was he?  

He squeezed his sockets shut as Twist's hand slowly massaged from his hips to his clavicle, staying mercifully silent.  A wave of soothing emotions too complicated to pin names to flicked at his magic, and he let it in, too tired to fight it.  He shuddered, feeling Twist's calming magic like a blanket.  It was heavy, like a woolen blanket, and he felt his responses dulling.  

The other was still talking, though it took a bit of focus for him to get what the other was saying.  Just the tone - calm, soothing,  _gentle_ , understanding, was all he could focus on.

* * *

He had caught the forlorn, lost,  _hungry_  look on Rus before the other had buried himself into his bedding.  He had seen it, the dragon had seen it.  

They both knew what it meant.

They'd neglected to let Edge know, of course.  The vampire would  _never_ approve.

The dragon licked its lips, tongue glowing gold.  Twist screeched as the dragon took control, unheard as he struggled in the recesses of his own mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short for a reason - the next chapter is going to deal with some Really Heavy Things™ and I wanted a clean break between the two. Might finish it for tomorrow, dunno since I get the unmitigated privilege of working on what should be my holiday.


End file.
